Lean on Me
by ackeberlynn
Summary: Jim Kirk is given a chance to change the past. But when he fails his most important mission, it is up to his crew to pick up the pieces. A story of love, loss, and the power of true friendship. Rated T only to be safe. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note**: Gosh, I haven't written in years. My current obsession with the new movie, as well as my low academic load this semester, have prompted me to write. This is a gen fic. I find it sad that there are seemingly so few out there for this genre. I write to portray friendship in its truest forms. All mistakes are mine. I am not familiar with all the technical terms and contexts of Star Trek, so feel free to enlighten me. I'll update when I can.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing but the plot.

**Chapter 1**: To Make a Grown Man Cry

* * *

The officers fell into a shocked silence as they regarded their Captain and the CMO materialize onto the transporter pad.

Mere moments ago they had been filled with triumph and hope, only to have those feelings crushed with the heavy weight of despair.

The damage—the cost had been more than anyone had realized.

Lieutenant Uhura covered her mouth with her hand, eyes brimming with tears at the scene before her.

Doctor McCoy was kneeling on one knee, trying to comfort a very broken-looking Captain Kirk. The normally gruff doctor was uncharacteristically tender with his touch as he held the younger man, and unusually gentle with his tone.

"Jim…Jim. There was nothing you could do."

But what shocked everyone more than witnessing the softer-side of McCoy, was hearing the choked sobs of their Captain. James T. Kirk did not cry. James T. Kirk was larger than life. He'd fought tooth and nail to get Captaincy of the Enterprise, breaking countless regulations in the process, and still managed to come out on top. He'd saved the lives of millions and earned himself the Captain's chair at the age of 25, the youngest in the history of Starfleet ever to be promoted so quickly.

To his crew, Jim Kirk was a legend. In the past 3 months he'd led them on dozens of missions, all of them Starfleet successes, not because he was perfect; but because he was Captain James T. Kirk, and he didn't believe in no-win scenarios.

Some might have said it was Jim's magnetic charisma that earned him the loyalty of his crew. But anyone who made such an observation obviously was not close enough to the young man to experience the infuriation of being friends with a guy who's second greatest joy in life is to irritate the hell out of everyone he comes in contact with; and who's greatest joy in life is to do and be the exact opposite of what everyone expects of him. Those who were closest to the young man understood that what looked like narcissistic egotism to others was really a carefully constructed façade used both to keep people at arm's length and to mask the deep scars of insecurity. Leonard McCoy was one of the trusted few, and the only one so far on the Enterprise, that Jim had ever let get that close. Hence, James T. Kirk did not easily make friends, nor was he easily liked or accepted by those around him.

Yet, gradually over the past few months, the crew had become fond of their Captain. They trusted him. It was not a matter of personality or charm; rather, it was Jim's often cavalier, indomitable refusal to give up that had eventually earned the crew's respect. On more than one occasion, it was what had saved their lives.

And yet here was their Captain, a broken, heartbreaking mess huddling on the transporter pad, sobbing into McCoy's blue Starfleet shirt. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

It was clear that Jim needed medical attention—he was covered with blood and bruises and his gasping sobs were tainted with the painful sound of wheezing. Yet McCoy seemed incapable of doing anything else but holding him, whispering consolations that were falling on deaf ears. It was clear that Jim was lost in his anguish, a shaking fist clenched in the fabric of McCoy's uniform shirt.

"Bones…Bones, I…I-I couldn't…h-he…"

"Shhh…Jim, you did all you could…" McCoy's voice broke on the last syllable.

Uhura, still watching, self-consciously wiped a tear off of her cheek. She was overcome with compassion for the hurting Captain, but did not wish to appear incapable of handling her duties. She glanced over at Scotty, who sat dumbstruck behind the control panel, eyes wide with confusion as he stared at the scene.

Only a few minutes had passed, but the officers were momentarily lost seeing the strong presence of their friend and Captain reduced to such severe grief.

She was suddenly snapped out of her thoughts as Spock's voice came through the communicator.

"Are the Captain and the doctor now on-board, Lieutenant?"

She tried her best to keep her voice from shaking when she responded, "Yes, Spock. They're here."

"Are there any injuries?"

"Dr. McCoy is seeing to the Captain now," she replied, voice more steady this time.

"Very well. You may return to your post, Lieutenant. Please inform Dr. McCoy that I shall be stopping by sickbay as soon as our trajectory is secure."

"Aye, commander." Stepping forward, she pitched her voice low as she placed a tentative hand on the doctor's tense shoulder. "Do you need assistance, doctor?"

He met her eyes then, and the sheer helplessness in their depths nearly sent her to her knees.

"Doctor?" She tried again, and it was enough to bring him back to his senses.

"Yeah…yeah. Help me get him up."

Jim's sobs had tapered off, but Uhura's heart still twisted to see the silent tears tracking rivers of dirt and blood down his coarse cheeks. He did not acknowledge her as she pulled one of his limp arms across her shoulders. Normally there would be a joke, most likely a suggestive one, and by now he should've been complaining to Bones about how he was fine and could walk on his own; but there was none of that. Bones put an arm around the younger man's back, hefting him into an upright position before taking the other arm and slinging it across his own shoulders. He tried to avoid looking into his friend's lackluster eyes.

"Easy, Jim," he muttered softly. "Let's get you out of here and patched up, eh?"

Jim just let his head hang, his chin bobbing against his chest. They made had almost made it to the turbo lift when he completely collapsed, limbs flailing, body falling heavily toward the floor. McCoy just barely slowed the descent enough to keep the Captain from further injuring his ribs, then laid him flat on the cool tile and whipped out his tricorder.

"Should've done this ten minutes ago," he grumbled to himself as the machine scanned Jim's body.

"Is he going to be alright?" Uhura asked urgently, her fingers reaching out to smooth Jim's hair.

The doctor grunted. "Physically, he's had worse."

"Do ya need any help doctor?" Scotty called, still standing next to the control panel. Uhura would have smiled at the bewildered look on the Scotsman's face, if the circumstances hadn't been so tragic. "Should I call up a gurney?"

"No," said McCoy. "He could wake up and…I-I don't want anybody seeing him like this."

"Just what in bloody blue blazes happened down there?" Scotty finally got up the nerve to ask.

"Scotty, aren't you needed in engineering?" McCoy snapped. It really wasn't his place, but he still hadn't had time to process everything himself, let alone explain to anyone else. Besides, he had bigger worries right now.

Scooping his unconscious friend up in his arms and ignoring the twinge of protest in his lower back, he entered the turbo lift with Uhura close behind.

"Didn't Spock call you back to the bridge?" he asked, his voice less venomous toward the communications officer.

She paused before answering. When she finally spoke, it was slow and full of concern.

"Look, I don't know what happened down there, but this," she waved her hands around the Captain's limp form, "is not normal."

McCoy sighed. "I know. And I wish I could promise that he's going to bounce back like he always does. But this," he shook his head, "this is going to take longer." He looked at her meaningfully. "He's gonna need us to be there for him, Uhura."

They held eye contact for a few seconds, Uhura trying to absorb the nuances in the doctor's statement, mentally collecting all of the underpinnings of meanings and possibilities behind his words. Finally she nodded, long dark hair bobbing with her head, and said, "Sure, whatever he needs."

Then the doors opened to sickbay, and McCoy exited the lift with his precious load.

The doors closed with a hiss, and Uhura was left alone with her thoughts, trying to compose herself so as to not give anything away upon her return to the bridge.

* * *

Well, what's the verdict? Please review--all comments/constructive criticism are welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: Well, I had originally wanted to take this a certain way…but it's turning out to be one those things I write as I go. So I have a vague plot outline in my brain, but beyond that, it's all improvised.

**Disclaimer**: I am trying to get a leash around my restless plot, which is the only thing here I can truly call 'mine'.

**Chapter 2**: The Beginning

* * *

Leonard McCoy felt old.

He was only 33, but he felt much closer to forty. It was the job that did it, but it's not as if he hadn't been warned. Once, years before the divorce, Jocelyn had told him during one of their particularly nasty arguments that _that job_ was going to make him an old man before his time.

McCoy hated the job. Hated the blood, the vomit, the smell, the pain and the death. But he was a man in love with responsibility and control. To be able to diagnose someone using just sight and touch. To be able to analyze symptoms and medicines, and perform complicated procedures to cure and to heal. To know the inner workings of the human body. In all these things he took immense, painstaking pride. He could handle the rest, or so he usually thought.

Tonight however, was one of those nights when McCoy was sick of the title "Doctor".

Tonight all he wanted was a few hours soaking up the numbing effects of alcohol followed by a good night's sleep.

He was exhausted, emotionally and physically, and if he were a lesser man, he would be on the brink of throwing in the towel. But his love/hate relationship with the job was too intoxicating of a dance to let him go—not for a long time yet, anyhow.

So he sat alone in his quarters, slumped over an unopened bottle of Jack Daniels, reflecting on the events of the past few days. He considered taking a swig, then stopped himself. For the first time in his life, he actually found himself not wanting to drink. Sure, it had been a grand idea up until now. Now he just stared at the bottle in his hands, and swallowed hard because he didn't think he could stomach a drink. Not tonight. Not knowing that Jim was still down in sickbay….

Jim.

McCoy closed his eyes and groaned. That kid was going to be the death of him.

It was nearly 10 p.m., six hours after he'd beamed aboard the ship with a wounded and emotionally distraught Captain.

Captain.

McCoy huffed. Three months in, and he was still getting used to associating the word with Jim. The kid was so young, with nearly 500 Starfleet personnel and it's most prized ship placed like a weight on his shoulders literally overnight. Sometimes McCoy knew, with humbling clarity, that he was the only one Jim turned to when it got too heavy. But McCoy never minded. He considered himself an expert at carrying burdens. Besides, Jim was his best friend.

Best friend.

McCoy chuckled to himself. Hadn't had one of those since secondary school. Yet this was no kiddie friendship. Jim was the kid brother McCoy had never had, and had come into his life during a rather lonely time. He was wild, carefree, and desperately needing someone to look out for him. McCoy was that someone, and looking after Jim in all of his mishaps and blunderings gave him a focus—a purpose—that he'd been lacking ever since his bitter divorce.

And really, that was how this whole thing had started. After being tried in front of the student body for cheating on the Kobyashi Maru, Kirk had been grounded. A hair's breath away from losing everything. He'd been a good sport about it, shaking McCoy's hand and wishing him well as a flurry of cadets rushed around them to their respective assigned shuttles. McCoy had almost walked away—almost. But there are higher duties to obey, reaching beyond mere rules and regulations, such as the duties of friendship and loyalty. It was those duties, and perhaps a bit of providence, that made McCoy turn around and sneak Jim onto that shuttle.

He's never regretted it.

McCoy's thoughts were interrupted by a small chime from the door.

"Enter," he called, swiftly setting the bottle of alcohol on the floor next to the sofa, hidden from sight. Spock briskly walked in the room, and stood expectantly, hands behind his back, in front of the doctor.

"Dr. McCoy, I have come to inquire after the Captain. How is his recovery?"

The doctor stood and arched his back, frowning as the vertebrae in his spine made several popping noises as he stretched.

"Physically, he should be fully recovered in few days. He's been beaten, bruised, and concussed, but he'll be fine."

The words were too fluid—almost rehearsed, and Spock caught what was not said.

"And what of his mental state, doctor? Lieutenant Uhura informed me that the Captain appeared rather…distressed," he said, quirking his brows in what Jim would have recognized as concern.

McCoy, never able to bring himself to trust the "pointy-eared hobgoblin", just wrote it off as a facial twitch.

"Yeah, well he's been through hell, so what do you expect?" he responded irritably.

Spock paused, watching the doctor as he moved around the room shuffling papers, and straightening up his quarters.

"Doctor, you do realize that as First Officer, I have a right to all information regarding the Captain, whether it pertains to his health or to whatever transpired during the recent mission…."

"It wasn't a mission," McCoy cut him off suddenly, sharply. Spock just looked at him.

Wiping a hand over his unshaven face, the doctor sighed.

"It was a massacre." Spock's eyebrows raised at that, and he took a step closer to the older man.

"A massacre, doctor?"

McCoy nodded, then had to sit down as the memories crashed over him like waves against stony reef.

_It had been a good day. _

_No patients in sickbay, and relatively quiet ship, left McCoy in a relaxed state of mind. _

_He'd just been finishing up reading an article from 'Starfleet Medical' about a new experimental vaccine to inoculate against the newest strain of influenza, when his communicator beeped, causing him to jump and nearly spill his steaming cup of coffee across his lap._

"_Damn it Jim, what is it?" he said after a yelp. He swore he could feel the tips of his ears flaming when he heard the sound of several crewmates on the bridge, including the Captain, snickering over the comm._

"_Haven't had your coffee, yet, Bones?" Jim joked, the smirk nearly as audible as the chuckles had been._

"_I'll have you know I…"_

"_Bones, Bones, Bones, aren't you wondering why I comm-ed you?" Jim interrupted. McCoy let out a longsuffering sigh before replying._

"_What do you need, Jim?" There was a pause._

"_Nothing, just wanted to say 'hi'," came the cheery response, and the doctor suddenly had the urge to rip out the offensive communicator and smash it repeated against the nearest wall._

"_I'm just kidding with ya, Bones. I actually would like you to meet me in the debriefing room. We got a new mission."_

"_A new mission. Just great," McCoy sarcastically replied. "I'll be there in ten."_

_It looked like his peaceful day wasn't going to turn out so peaceful after all. _

_The mission, it turned out, was relatively low-key. Starfleet had received a communication regarding new technological advances at a small colony on the planet Thay'are. Normally a smaller vessel would be responsible for responding to the colony, but the nearest one to the planet had declared itself out of service due to electrical malfunctions, and the Enterprise was the only other Federation ship close enough in proximity. Their orders were to investigate the new technology advances on Thay'are, and report their findings back to the Federation. _

"_According to Mr. Sulu, we should be reaching the orbit of Thay'are in approximately 2.4 hours, Captain," Spock reported._

"_Thank you, Mr. Spock," Jim said, then turned to Bones. "You're on the landing party." _

_McCoy groaned. "Why don't you take Scotty? I'm doctor, not a technological expert!"_

"_Oh come on Bones," Jim replied, slapping his friend's back. "You just might enjoy yourself."_

"Enjoy_ myself?! When have I _ever_ given you the impression that I _like_ being on landing parties?_

_Jim paused for a moment, scratching his chin dramatically. After a few moments, he shrugged. _

"_Never."_

"_Well, then why do you insist on my going on these missions Jim?"_

_The younger man simply grinned, blue eyes twinkling with mischief. He put a hand on McCoy's shoulder, and leaned in as if he were going to tell the man a secret._

"_It's just 'cuz I like ya, Bones," he said finally. And, satisfied that he had gotten far enough under the doctor's skin that he wouldn't be able to think of a good come-back, he strolled out of the debriefing room._

_McCoy stood there for a few moments, sputtering. Then he glanced over at Spock, who seemed to have—was that amusement?—dancing in his eyes before returning to his normally expressive-less state._

"_What are you looking at, you green-blooded leprechaun?" he grunted, then left the room to prepare for transport. _

* * *

Well, what do you think? Reviews are like the caffeine to my nervous system, so gimme a boost!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note**: This will probably be my last update for a couple days, sorry to say. I've been putting schoolwork on the backburner and it's starting to catch up on me. Don't worry though, I have no intentions of leaving the story unfinished.

**Disclaimer**: Why do I feel the need to put a disclaimer on every chapter? I mean like, who actually think that I would own these wonderful characters?

**Chapter 3**: Bad Dreams

* * *

Jim awoke with a start, chest heaving, body trembling violently. For a moment awareness consisted only of the pounding in his head and the intense urge to vomit, before clarity began to dawn on him slowly. He was in sickbay, he noted, and it must be late in the evening, for the ward was quiet and dimly lit.

He waited until his breathing returned to normal before he attempted to sit up. It had been one hell of a nightmare, and he wasn't planning on going back to sleep anytime soon.

Surprisingly, he was in hardly any pain. 'Bones must've given me something,' he thought, noticing the fuzzy, detached sensation in his limbs as he moved.

As his mind further awakened from its slumber, his thoughts immediately began drifting back to the nightmare. Jim clenched his eyes shut and breathed slowly for a moment. 'Don't go there', he chanted to himself mentally. He had to get his mind off of it.

He frowned. Wait a minute…how did he get here? What happened? He placed a hand on the side of his head, trying to remember, trying to get his tired brain to recall the events that had led him to this point.

He'd been on a mission. On the planet Thay'are. He'd beamed down with Bones and two ensigns from engineering to investigate some new technological innovations developed by the small colony.

Jim jolted suddenly, gasping as a searing memory flashed across his mind's eye.

_He was standing in the center of the colony, flanked by two Klingons. Bones was standing off to his right, in a similar fashion. The colonists, all 115, had been rounded up and made to stand against the outer wall of Thay'are Center—the equivalent of what on earth would be known as a town hall. Kirk was livid and ready to fight. What a mess this had turned out to be. He'd already lost the two ensigns, both killed by Klingons in an earlier scuffle. There was no way he was going to allow more innocent people to die. _

_The adrenaline coursing through his veins helped him to ignore the blood running down the side of his face, as well as the dull ache from what he knew to be several cracked ribs. It felt like electricity flowing through his limbs, and he could barely restrain himself from breaking free of the Klingons' grasp and kicking some serious butt. Yet he controlled himself, because there was much more at stake, and he knew the cards were stacked against him. He'd managed to get a hold of the Enterprise just before they were captured, but their comm. pins had been taken from them, and there was no way of knowing if help would come anytime soon._

_The Klingon commander stepped toward him, a towering creature with two jagged scars marring the left side of his face. _

"_You will tell us which one of these Thay'arians holds the knowledge of the Proginious project!"_

"_Why? What do you want with him?" Kirk asked levelly, already knowing what the answer would be._

"_We will assimilate his knowledge for our own purposes."_

"_And then you'll kill him once he's no longer use to you," Kirk retorted angrily. _

"_That is not your concern," the commander growled._

"_As a Federation Captain, it is damn well my concern," said Jim, eyes flashing daggers. "I suggest that you return to your ship peacefully, and leave this planet, before you do something you'll regret. Need I remind you of the penalty for the kidnap and assault of a Starfleet officer?"_

_The second part was a speech out of Spock's playbook. Jim had it memorized. He'd never played nicely with others, yet Spock was a consummate diplomat; and though he would never admit it, Jim had learned a lot from watching his First Officer's interactions with the many species they'd encountered over the past 3 months. _

_McCoy glanced over at Jim sharply. If he was quoting Spock, things must be heading downhill fast. Jim never quoted Spock unless he was seriously close to losing his temper. On second thought, Jim could just be spewing out the rehearsed words to save time. Maybe he was just in the process of thinking up a way out of this crazy mess. _

_The Klingon commander threw back his head and let loose a deep, throaty laugh._

"_You are in no position to make such demands. We are in control. You are outnumbered. You would be wise to give me the information I seek."_

"_And if I don't?" Jim replied, mind reeling to think of a way out of looming disaster._

"_If you don't," the commander's eyes darkened. "Then all of these people will die, because of you. And then, after you have watched them suffer, you too will die."_

'_OhGodohGodohGod', Jim's face gave away nothing, but his mind was racing. This was quickly going from bad to worse._

"_What will it be, Captain Kirk?" the commander sneered in his face. "The death of one man, or the death of the entire Thay'are colony…including your father?"_

Jim gasped again, forcing his mind to return to the present. God, he didn't want to remember. He didn't want to remember…didn't want to feel. Grabbing his head in his hands, he tried to calm his suddenly racing heart. Panic overtook him, and he was suddenly, desperately gulping down air to fill seemingly empty lungs. 'Gotta find Bones…' was his only coherent thought. His mind kept flip-flopping between the nightmare and his memories from Thay'are, until he didn't know which was real anymore.

Lurching out of the biobed, he grasped the railing as his legs threatened to give out underneath him. 'Gotta find Bones…' His panic escalated as he began to sweat, yet his body felt cold. Heart hammering, head pounding, he nearly collided with a night shift nurse in his rush to get out of sickbay. She called after him, but he was only dimly aware of her voice. 'BonesBonesBonesBones' his mind chanted desperately. Anything to get away from the feelings, the memories, the nightmare.

By the time he reached the doctor's quarters, he was about ready to pass out, and he frantically slapped his hand against the door chime, inwardly begging for Bones to hurry up and let him in.

* * *

Bones was woken from a deep sleep by the urgent and incessant beeping of his communicator.

Rolling over, he picked it up off his dresser and muttered into it drowsily, "This had better an emergency, Nurse Keller."

"Doctor, it's the Captain. He just ran out of the sickbay so fast he nearly bowled me over on his way out," nightshift nurse Keller explained hastily.

McCoy was already out of bed with his pants pulled on by the time she finished her sentence.

"Well damn it, why didn't you stop him? He shouldn't even be awake after the dose of painkillers I gave him! How is he even coherent?" McCoy demanded as he fumbled one-handedly to put on his shoes.

"Doctor, I don't think the Captain was in his right mind. He seemed rather upset," the younger woman informed.

Just as the doctor was about to give a frustrated retort, he was cut-off by the sound of his door chime being pressed repeatedly. He just knew it was Jim.

"Never mind, Nurse Keller, I've got him," he called into the comm. before tossing it back onto the dresser and dashing for the door.

As the door swished open, he was nearly knocked off his feet by a practically hysterical Jim Kirk.

"Jim! –what the hell?!" he cried as he latched onto the stumbling man's upper arms.

"Bones…Bones…." Jim panted, eyes rolling wildly about, barely able to catch his breath. McCoy took quick stock of Jim's sweating, shivering state and led him over to the sofa to sit down.

"Jim, I think you're having a panic attack. You need to calm down, alright? Take deep breaths," he urged in a calm voice. At first, it looked like the younger man was too lost in terror to heed the doctor.

"Come on now, Jim, you need to slow down your breathing—you're hyperventilating. I really don't want to have to use a hypo on you…" McCoy said lightly. He placed one hand firmly against Jim's back for support, then used the other to hold Jim's wrist, keeping track of his pulse. After a few minutes, Jim's breathing became less labored, and he showed signs of calming.

"That's it," McCoy encouraged. "Slow, deep breaths. In and out…thatta boy, Jim. Just take it easy."

After a few moments, Jim leaned his head back so it rested against the back of the sofa, his hands lying limply in his lap, utterly spent.

"Thank you," he whispered with a sigh.

"Don't mention it, kid," Bones replied. "What the hell was that, anyway?"

"You said it was a panic attack," Jim said without opening his eyes.

"You know what I mean. What triggered it?"

Jim sighed again. "I don't want to remember."

McCoy studied him for a moment. "Nightmares?" he asked gently.

"Yeah," his friend reluctantly admitted. "But it's more than that."

"Explain," the doctor prodded.

When Jim opened his eyes he briefly met McCoy's before quickly looking away. The doctor's heart sank. Instead of the vibrant blue he was used to seeing in Jim's gaze, his eyes were now a washed-out grey. Gone was the twinkle of mischief Bones was used to seeing, having been replaced with what could only be described as a deep despondency.

In a voice devoid of any inflection, Jim said, "I can't sleep 'cause I'll have nightmares. I can't be awake 'cause I'll have flashbacks. I don't want to remember. I don't want to feel."

He looked at Bones meaningfully. "I don't want to feel," he repeated.

McCoy sighed. What could he say to that? It was 2:30 in the morning, and his friend was in no shape for a heart to heart at the moment. In fact, Jim looked to be about at the end of his endurance. His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with red. His face was pale and haggard, and even from where he was standing across from him, Bones could see slight tremors still running through the young Captain's frame.

"Are you in any pain?" he asked softly.

"Not really. Not physically, anyway," Jim said tiredly. The magnitude of his admission was not lost on McCoy. He chose to ignore it for now, but locked away the comment in the back of his mind for later.

"That's good," he replied. "Because I can't give you anymore anyhow, at least not for another two hours."

"I just…j's'need somethin' t'help me sleep an' not dream," Jim muttered, frowning a little as he heard his words slur. "God m'tired, Bones" he whispered, closing his eyes again and letting his head drop onto the back of the sofa.

Something tore inside of McCoy at the sound of such weakness in his friend's weary voice.

"I can give you a hypo—a sedative. It'll knock you out for at least 12 hours. And you won't dream."

Jim sighed. "Ssounss good", he whispered, completely unaware of the effect he was having on his friend.

McCoy nearly broke to hear his friend actually agree to the sedative. It wasn't like him at all. Jim hated hypos and medicines. He also hated to ask for help, or admit that he was in pain. The fact that he was actually asking for a sedative was a testament to how much Jim was hurting, not just physically, but mentally.

And that was worst of all. Because McCoy knew the human body inside and out—that he could fix. But the heart was another matter entirely. For once, Bones didn't know if he could help his friend. And that scared the hell out of him.

Grabbing the readied hypo from his bottom desk drawer, he walked over to the near-dozing Captain and nudged him gently with his hand. "Jim? Before I give you this, I want to check out how your injuries are healing. You were moving around a lot earlier and I need to check to make sure you didn't damage yourself further."

With great effort, Jim opened glazed eyes and leaned his body forward to get ready to stand. McCoy cupped a steadying hand under Jim's shoulder, lifting him to his feet.

"Where m'I goin'?" Jim asked, swaying slightly.

"Bed, that's where," Bones answered.

"Your bed?" he asked with a hint of incredulity in his voice. Then said breathily, "Hey, will you respect m'in th' mornin'?" and giggling in the high-pitched way one does when on the brink of hysterics.

"Well, I can see your perverted sense of humor remains intact," McCoy commented dryly, depositing Jim onto his bed. Leave it to Jim to crack jokes after recovering from a panic attack.

He could've grabbed his tricorder, which had been sitting on the dresser, but McCoy thought a little old-fashioned human contact was in order.

Jim was quiet as Bones examined his wrapped ribs, checked his pupils, and gently prodded the various other cuts and bruises across his torso, shoulders, and back. He'd closed his eyes again, allowing himself to rest as his friend looked him over.

It was when Bones shifted to check the stitches in his head that he felt the hands still. He waited a few seconds, then, "Bones?" It came out sounding raspy and pathetic, but it wasn't like he could help it.

When Bones finally spoke, it was probably in the softest tone Jim had ever heard him use. He spoke the words slowly, with conviction, his fingertips never leaving the places where they lightly rested on Jim's head.

"You're gonna be alright kid. You know that, right? You're gonna be okay."

Jim didn't respond, just let the words wash over him. Let them sink into his soul and allowed himself, just for a moment, to believe they were true.

As he put a shaky hand over his eyes, a shuddering sigh erupting from his chest. Bones leaned down slowly from where he stood next to the bed and wrapped his arms around Jim's shoulders, giving him a quick hug before gently slapping him on the back and emptying the contents of the hypo into Jim's neck.

As Jim's mind slipped under he mumbled, barely decipherable, "No dreams?"

Bones just patted his shoulder, "Yeah. No dreams kid. I promise."

* * *

**Note**: Did you notice the surprise twist in this chapter? Did you catch it? Are you curious? Good. TBA.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note**: I believe this would be what they call…filler? Forgive me, I write in bursts of muse.

**Disclaimer**: The stake I claim here is the plot—which I'm still trying to get a leash around, btw.

**Chapter 4**: Laughter and Tears

* * *

_One time not too long ago, probably after their third or fourth experience of Federation-diplomacy-gone-wrong, Jim had managed once again to pull off the impossible, saving the Enterprise and its crew from almost certain annihilation. _

_The three of them had been standing on the transporter pad. McCoy was making occasional grunts as he ran his tricorder over the both of them to scan for injuries. The Captain was bent at the waist, simultaneously trying to catch his breath and wave off Bones' help. Scotty was keeping some running commentary in the background about transporter interference and how close a call it had been. It was not until he heard Spock reveal that the statistical likelihood of them getting out of the situation alive and intact had been only 4,316.93 to 1, that McCoy shook his head. _

_Fixing his friend with an intense stare, he said, "You know Jim, you are one hell of a good Captain."_

_And Jim had thrown his head back and laughed, as if his best friend had just told him the most ridiculous joke he'd ever heard._

_McCoy was taken aback. "Jim, I'm being serious…."_

_The younger man just flopped a hand down on the doctor's shoulder, barely able to control the mini-guffaws threatening to burst again from his gut. "I know Bones, it's okay." _

"_Doctor, perhaps a physical would be in order. It would appear the Captain is falling into a state of hysteria," Spock suggested, a hint of confusion evident in the tilt of his eyebrows. _

"_No, no Spock—Bones I'm fine, I swear. Not a scratch on me. I'm sorry, I'm done laughing; it's just—damn," Jim quickly replied, holding a hand up in dissent, his raucous laughter quickly taming down to small, inaudible chuckles._

_And even though Bones had dragged Jim down to sickbay for a physical which had proven that the Captain was indeed "fine", McCoy still felt troubled by that moment in the transporter room. It bothered him, Jim's reaction; but he couldn't put his figure on why. _

_A week passed before McCoy found an opportunity to find the answer to the question burning in the back of his brain. _

_It was late on a Sunday evening. Jim was lounging in the doctor's quarters, drinking liberally from a bottle of the man's finest brandy. _

"_You better be careful with that. You don't want to Spock finding you incapacitated, should he need you on the bridge."_

"_Just a buzz, Bones, I promise. Besides, couldn't I say the same of you? I mean, what if there's some crisis in sickbay?"_

"_There're other doctors on the ship, Jim. There's only one Captain," McCoy informed in his most patronizing tone before taking a swig of his own whiskey. _

_Frowning as he watched his friend down another swallow, he reached over and snatched the bottle from Jim's hand._

"_Hey—what?! Bones!" _

"_Don't be an infant," Bones groused. "What is it with you anyway? This isn't the academy—you know you can't drown your sorrows like that anymore. You have too many responsibilities. I shouldn't even have to tell you."_

_Jim snorted. "You don't have to tell me. I know my responsibilities, and I know my limits, too." His voice grew hard, "You don't need to lecture me either. If you actually think that I'd jeopardize my ship or my crew, then you really don't know me at all."_

"_Jim, come on," McCoy responded placatorily. "You know I don't think that. I do think that you've been under a lot of stress, and that you seem to be using drinking more than you usually do tonight as a means of trying to relieve some of that stress. Which is not necessarily a crime; however, as your CMO and your friend, I suggest that there may be better ways of dealing with that stress than sitting here trying to tie one on in my quarters." _

_Jim just looked at him for a long moment, an unreadable expression on his face. At last he broke into a wide, cocky grin. "That was really good, Bones. Now was that rehearsed, or ad-lib?" _

"_Oh, shut up," Bones grumbled. _

_Inwardly though, the doctor was relieved. Jim's light-hearted response was proof that his words had been heard and heeded._

_Later in the evening, they'd gotten around to discussing some of McCoy's most recent adventures in sickbay. _

"_How is Ensign Howard, by the way?" Jim asked from his perch on Bones' couch._

"_His ankle is healing nicely. Should be back on light duty in a couple days," McCoy reported._

_Jim was quiet for a moment, then, "Yeah, I guess I should've thought before I sent him to check out that rock cropping on Bazzar VII."_

_McCoy glared at him. "Jim, you couldn't have possibly known that the kid was going to fall into that mineshaft. Good God, man—if this is how you react when one of your crew breaks a bone, how do expect to handle it when one of them dies on a mission?"_

_Jim visibly winced. _

_Standing suddenly, he went to look out of the room's porthole, looking out into the blackness of space. _

"_I guess I just never thought about this part of it," he mused, shoulders hunched. _

"_What?" McCoy asked, a twinge of regret at his earlier words._

"_The part where I'm holding 400 lives in my hands," Jim replied, his voice heavy. _

_McCoy rose from where he'd been seated at his desk, feet propped up on the corner, and went to stand beside his friend._

"_And all 400 of those people chose to work on the Enterprise willingly, because they know that they're in good hands here." _

_McCoy's voice was solemn and sincere, but his eyes narrowed in anger at Jim's reaction. The younger man merely let loose a cross between a snort and chuckle, slapped Bones on the arm, and began to walk away. He was stopped when McCoy roughly grabbed his wrist. _

"_Wait—why do you do that?"_

"_Do what?"_

"_You laugh every time I give you a compliment."_

"_What're you talking about? Let go of my arm," Jim replied, yanking his wrist from the doctor's grasp._

"_I wanna know why," McCoy demanded. _

"_Why _what_, Bones?"_

"_I said that the crew of the Enterprise knows they're in good hands, and you snickered like I was making some sort of idiotic comment."_

"_I don't know, I just…." A shrug._

"_Don't you try to blow me off, either, 'cause you've done it before. What, you don't think what I say matters?"_

"_No, that's not it all Bones—I'm sorry, geez," Jim said, letting out a frustrated sigh. _

"_Look, I don't just say things to coddle you. If I say you're a doing a good job, I mean it, damn it!" McCoy said angrily. _

_Jim just looked away, unable to make eye contact. It was then that realization dawned on the doctor._

"_That's it isn't it. You really thought I was just humoring you. Geez kid—surely you have more belief in yourself than that," McCoy said with a touch of incredulity. _

"_I _do_ believe in myself, Bones. If I didn't, I wouldn't have gotten this far," Jim snapped, turning toward the porthole once more. _

"_Ah…so you believe in yourself—you just don't think anybody else believes in you."_

"_Don't patronize me, Bones," Jim's voice had razor sharp edge. _

_But Bones was on a role, because finally it all made sense. It was like the final puzzle piece fitting into place. Jim had grown up in his dead father's shadow. The man was hero, sacrificing his life so that 800 others would live. It wasn't that Jim felt like he couldn't compete with his dead father's legacy, or even that he wanted to compete at all. It was simply the fact that no one else ever expected him to. _

_Even at an early age, Jim had felt special. He had potential lurking inside of him, and he was desperate for someone to recognize that potential and help cultivate it, give him a direction. His mother tried, but was too busy traveling off-planet to really invest in his life. That left Frank, Jim's temperamental stepfather. It wasn't so much that Frank was a bad guy; but Jim was a handfull, and Frank had an explosive temper coupled with a vile tongue. Even though Jim had many good memories of his stepfather, they always seemed tainted by the bad memories. It was a matter of the human condition—the soul's tendency to hold onto the scars of verbal abuse while overlooking salving words of praise. _

_In school it was the same. Jim had a genius IQ, yet he was never challenged enough. The teachers mostly let him do what he pleased because he was the late George Kirk's son, never bothering to look deeper. Jim Kirk spent most of his childhood feeling directionless and lonely. As a young teenager, he began to lash out. Driving his stepfather's antique car off of a dusty cliff was only the beginning of the kind of trouble he would get into. By the time Jim was 19, his inner feeling of isolation had manifested itself externally, as he had alienated himself from everyone around him. _

_When Christopher Pike challenged him ("the only genius level, repeat offender in the Midwest") to enlist in Starfleet, it had been the first time in a long time that Jim had felt like somebody actually believed in him. He had laughed then too. "Why're you talkin' to me, man?" Jim had chuckled rudely, with an air of disbelief, his words slurring due to the effects of too much alcohol and a smashed nose and mouth. _

_When Bones sacrificed his own future to sneak Jim onto the Enterprise—that was the second time. _

_After defeating Nero, Jim had been given the Enterprise. But even Jim knew that the decision to give him Captaincy occurred more for the sake of politics than the fact that Starfleet actually believed in him. In fact, Starfleet had been watching Jim like a hawk ever since the Enterprise set out on her 5 year mission. Jim likened them to vultures. It was as if they were just waiting for him to fail so they could devour him. Slowly, over the past month, Jim had begun to feel the old insecurity creeping back into his soul._

"_Patronize you?" McCoy spat. "I ought to beat some sense into you! What do I have to say, to get you to realize that I believe in you? What do I have to do to get you to take me seriously? Maybe I should take a ship-wide poll to see just how many of the crewmembers actually believe in their Captain? Or maybe I should just drag Spock up here, because he'd tell you that such an action would be completely illogical, since no one would willingly serving under a Captain they didn't think was fit for command. Yet _you_ have the unmitigated gall to sit there and insult my intelligence, insinuating that my professional observations of your character and performance are somehow based on some fanciful desire to make you feel better?! Well if you think that then, James T. Kirk, you are a _damn fool_!"_

_Jim blinked, staring at his best friend, whose chest was heaving from the effects of his rant. _

_A small smile graced his lips, and his vibrant blue eyes were suspiciously bright as he reached out to clap McCoy on the shoulder. _

"_You're a good friend Bones," he said softly, then turned to leave._

_McCoy stared at his friend's back as he headed for the door and then stopped, mid stride._

"_Bones?"_

"_Yeah, Jim?" A tired sigh._

"_Thanks." _

* * *

Bones stared at his friend's inert, sleeping form as he sipped from a cup of hot tea. He wasn't going to get any sleep tonight, not after that episode.

He'd been shaken by Jim's panic attack. Now he took simple comfort in watching the even rise and fall of Jim's chest as he slept.

His mind swirled with what if's. What if Jim was developing some sort of PTSD? What if his mind continued to plague him with anxiety, guilt, nightmares, and panic attacks? What if he never recovered from the trauma on Thay'are?

'_What if I can't help him?'_

McCoy subconsciously shivered. Too many what if's for one night.

Setting down his cup of tea, he made his way over to the couch and lay down, pulling the afghan down off of the back to cover his aching body.

Soon, he drifted into a restless sleep.

* * *

**A/N**: So yeah, don't just mark the story alert or stick it into favorites…leave a review!


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note**: Angst, angst, and more angst. Hope you're into that. Also, these things always seem longer when they're in a Word document. Then when I get them uploaded I'm like, "hm...that's shorter than I thought it was".

Random side comment: Sometimes when I'm playing these scenes out in my head I'll imagine the Spock from the new movie with the voice of Spock from TOS. Similarly, I'll imagine McCoy from TOS with McCoy's voice from the new movie. Thankfully, Kirk is just Kirk from the new movie. Anybody else have that problem though?

Also, thank you for all the encouraging reviews (even the ones pointing out errors, for I have no beta)—they keep me writing!

**Disclaimer**: I think if I had actually been creative enough to come up with these wonderful characters, I would be so full of my own awesomeness that I would explode into a million pieces. So it's probably a good thing that I own nothing but the plot. ;)

**Chapter 5**: Desolation

* * *

McCoy hadn't gotten any sleep. He was only 2 hours into his shift, and he was exhausted. It was the kind of exhaustion that could not be remedied with caffeine. Coffee served only to make his limbs feel tight and wiry, like coiled springs; yet his mind felt like thick, moldy soup.

Eventually he'd shut himself into his office, giving the on-duty nurses the excuse that he had mountains of paperwork to get through. Giving in, like he usually did no matter how hard he tried, to the hope that today would be a quiet day with few medical emergencies, and none that serious; he slumped into his office chair, tipped back his head, and closed his aching eyelids.

"Good morning, Doctor," Spock's monotonous voice startled the older man so badly that he nearly fell out of his chair.

"God, Spock! Haven't you ever heard of knocking? Or don't Vulcans believe in common courtesies," McCoy complained heatedly, trying to regain his composure in front of the First Officer.

"I did not foresee any logical reason to knock, Doctor. This is an office, not your personal quarters. However I apologize if my unexpectedly sudden appearance startled you."

"Well, to what do I owe this 'unexpectedly sudden appearance', Mr. Spock?" McCoy asked irritably.

"I have come to inquire after the Captain."

McCoy groaned. "Look Spock, I know that you need your information, but he needs rest! The last thing he needs right now is an interrogation."

"I do not plan on interrogating the Captain," Spock explained patiently. "However, Starfleet is demanding to know what happened on Thay'are."

"I _told_ you what happened down there!"

"Indeed doctor, and your information was sufficiently detailed. However, you are not the Captain, and Starfleet is most insistent on hearing from the Captain," Spock explained patiently.

McCoy shook his head, absentmindedly running a hand across the top of a stack of manila folders piled on his desk. "Damn Starfleet. Can't they wait? He needs more time."

"Dr. McCoy, approximately 126 innocent colonists are dead, including two of our own men. An entire Federation colony has been obliterated by Klingons, and we have yet to determine a motive behind the massacre, nor a proper response. Starfleet's insistence, therefore, is perfectly understandable. Furthermore, while you have provided me with general facts regarding the massacre, I still am unaware of much data necessary to decide on an informed course of action. While I am reluctant to interfere with the Captain's healing process, I also am aware that it has been exactly 18 hours and 12 minutes since your return to the ship, which is plenty of time for basic treatment and rest."

"Why, you pointy-eared—"

"Is he able to carry on a simple conversation, doctor?" Spock asked, a slight edge in his tone.

McCoy glared daggers. "I don't _know_, damn it. Last time he woke up he had a panic attack. I had to give him a sedative."

"I must speak to him. Starfleet will not allow us to tarry much longer. They need the information, and so do I."

Sighing, McCoy wiped a hand across his unshaven jaw. He knew Spock was right. Didn't mean he had to like it.

"Fine. Have it your way. But I'm gonna be there when you question him," he demanded, leading Spock out of the office.

"I had suspected you would feel that way, doctor. I would not object to your presence."

* * *

Jim awoke again, this time to his shoulder being prodded incessantly. As consciousness approached, he became aware of a familiarly gruff voice calling his name.

"Jim…Jim…time to wake up, kid."

Finally, Jim opened his eyes, using his arms to slowly push his body up into a sitting position against the headboard.

"Bones?" His throat felt dry, and his tongue stuck to seemingly gummy teeth.

"Ugh…I feel gross," he commented hoarsely. He blinked up at McCoy, who was staring intently down at him.

"Yeah? Aside from that, how do you feel?"

Jim brought heavy hands up to his face, rubbing them roughly up and down his skin. "Tired," came the muffled response. "N' sore."

Nodding with a satisfied grunt, McCoy straightened and turned toward a quiet figure standing about 15 feet from the edge of the bed. It was then that Jim realized his First Officer was in the room.

"Hey Spock," he greeted the Vulcan, who merely nodded his head in acknowledgement.

"Well he seems lucid enough," McCoy reported. Then, glancing at Jim, he said, "I'm gonna go get you a drink of water. Under no circumstances are you to get out of that bed; that's an order from your CMO." With that, he turned and left.

"Well, he's a regular ray of sunshine," Jim remarked wryly.

"Pardon me, Captain? I fail to see what Doctor McCoy's rather acerbic personality has to do with the star around which the planet Earth revolves?" Spock asked, a genuinely confused expression set in his dark eyebrows.

Jim blinked.

"It's an expression, Spock. It has nothing to do with the sun."

Spock raised one eyebrow and nodded, as if that explained everything. "I see."

"So ah…what can I do for you, Spock?" Jim asked, realizing with a touch of bewilderment that he had no idea what he was doing in bed. Or specifically, how he ended up in McCoy's quarters. Or even more specifically, why Spock was here.

"Yes Captain,—"

"Spock, come on, call me Jim."

Spock opened and closed his mouth a few times, clearly ruffled both at being interrupted and at Jim's insistence that he call him by his first name.

"Jim," he finally acquiesced.

"See? Was that so hard? Now continue."

"Ca—Jim. I am pleased to see that you are recovering from your injuries. However, Starfleet has been hailing us for the past 12 hours, demanding an explanation for the destruction of Thay'arian colony. I need you to divulge any and all helpful information regarding your time on the planet's surface."

Jim looked at him for a long moment, an unreadable look on his face. Then he slowly shook his head as a cold feeling seeped into the pit of his stomach.

"Spock I…I have no idea what you're talking about."

Spock's head cocked slightly to the side as concern flickered in his dark eyes. "You have no recollection of your time on Thay'are?"

"No, I…wait. You said a Federation colony was destroyed? On the planet…."

"Thay'are," Spock provided.

"Thay'are. And I was there…and now I'm here." Jim gazed around him with a blank expression and faraway eyes.

Abruptly, his eyes snapped into focus, and he gave an involuntary shudder.

"Jim?" Spock called in a low voice, stepping closer to the bed.

Just then, McCoy re-entered the room, carrying a tall class of ice water.

"Here you go, Jim-bo," he said, setting the glass down on the nightstand within his friend's reach.

"Doctor."

McCoy froze at the tinge in Spock's voice, and his eyes quickly looked to his patient, who was now considerably paler than he was when he'd left to get the water.

"Jim?"

Placing a gentle hand on the younger man's shoulder, McCoy tried to see into Jim's staring blue eyes.

"What the hell happened, Spock?" he demanded in a low tone. "I told you I wanted to _be_ here when you questioned him."

"I did not begin questioning him yet, doctor. I did not have the chance. He was acting quite normally up until I mentioned the reason for my presence—obtaining information regarding the destruction of Thay'are. Then he appeared to be suffering from some kind of memory loss."

"Memory loss?" McCoy repeated sharply.

"Yes doctor. He seemed quite confused."

McCoy swore under his breath sharply. "I knew this was a bad idea. I told you he wasn't ready." Rounding the bed quickly, he moved until he was toe to toe with the First Officer.

"With all due respect, doctor—"

Spock tried to diffuse McCoy's anger to no avail. The doctor was exhausted, physically and emotionally, a spring coiled and ready to snap. He stood in front of Spock with fists of rage clenched at his sides.

"Oh shut up with your Vulcan logic! It'll be your fault if he falls into a catatonic state!"

"Doctor McCoy, there is no need—"

"Bones?" A shaky whisper from the bed caught the attention of both officers, interrupting their tirade.

Jim was looking at them, desolation evident in pooling cobalt eyes. Twitching hands clenched wrinkles into the bed sheets.

"It's okay. I remember." He swallowed. "I remember everything."

* * *

**A/N**: Is it bad that it takes me so long to get to the part where we actually find out what happened to Jim? I think I just really like building things up. I promise it will all come out in the next chapter though, so stay with me. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Okay, I really hope you'll be pleased with this one. :)

Less angst, but lots and lots of creativity and buildup of suspense.

Just a reminder, it's in _italics_ because it takes place in the past, just in case you haven't realized that I've been doing that yet. :P

**Disclaimer**: I recently got into TOS, and watched "Naked Time", which is now my favorite TOS episode. Unfortunately, I do not own it, nor do I own any of the characters here save for the Ensigns and the Thay'arians, which I would rather not own, 'cause they're kinda freaky.

**Chapter 6:** The Gift

* * *

_McCoy grumbled all the way to the transporter room. _

_Once there, he did nothing but stand by the wall, arms folded defiantly across his chest, glaring daggers at Jim. _

"_I can beam ya down right outside of their scientific facility," Scotty informed in his thick accent. _

"_That'll be fine Scotty," Jim replied with quirk of a grin. _

_He would never admit it for fear of giving people the wrong impression, as if Starfleet would take away his captaincy should they ever discover just how much he lived for this—the adventure, the adrenaline, the challenge, the unknown. This was Jim Kirk's element, and his eyes shone with the wonder of it._

_McCoy however, did not share his friend's excitement. _

"_Remind me again why you're forcing me to go on this mission?" _

_Before Jim could answer, Spock replied, "The new technology advanced by the Thay'arians just happens to be medical in nature, doctor; genetics, to be precise. Perhaps upon investigation, you will find yourself intrigued." _

"_Intrigued, eh? More likely nauseous," the doctor muttered, but said no more after that._

_Jim was impressed. Spock was the only one he'd ever come across who possessed the ability to verbally cow Bones into silence. Perhaps they would become friends after all._

_Despite Spock Prime's revelation on Delta Vega, that Spock and he had been close friends in the other timeline; Jim was yet to see the spark of anything more than acquaintanceship in the past few months. _

_Determined not to force something that may not be meant to occur in this version of history, Jim was content to let Spock seek him out, allowing Spock to define the relationship and accepting whatever pace he set. If Spock wanted them to be merely casual associates, then fine. However, Jim had felt the deep affection Spock Prime had held for his own Jim Kirk, and he would be lying to himself if he said he didn't envy it. _

_Jim could count on his hand the number of people he'd trusted enough to let get close to him in this life. He'd been befriended merely because he was the son of a hero. He'd been pitied because his father died on the day he was born. He'd been rejected when people had discovered the truth behind the brash womanizer facade. _

_There were only a few, and perhaps only one, who had ever shown him the meaning and the value of true friendship. _

_Bones knew him intimately, inside and out, all of his quirks and fears and flaws. And he accepted him for who he was, while at the same time caring about him enough to challenge him to be all that he could be. _

_So Jim understood the kind of affection he'd felt from the emotional transference of the mind meld, because it was the same kind of affection he associated with Bones, only stronger. He knew he considered the doctor to be his best friend, but also knew with a touch of irony that, in the other timeline, it was Spock who had filled that role. _

_He often wondered if somehow, he would be lucky enough to get the best of both timelines. _

"_Captain, the coordinates are set and ready for beam down to the surface of Thay'are," Scotty announced, breaking Jim out of his reverie. _

"_Alright, Mr. Scott," Jim said, all business now. He glanced briefly to his left and right, where he was flanked by Spock and Bones. Behind him stood two Ensigns, Bowers and Vovitchey. He knew it was their first experience beaming down in a landing party. _

"_Everyone ready?" He asked, specifically waiting for the affirmative reply from the Ensigns._

_Hearing their echoed 'Ready Captain', he nodded over to Scotty. "Energize." _

_They faded to nothing in bursts of glittering white light._

* * *

_The five-man landing party materialized on a dusty plain, surrounded by large buildings made of marble and stone. _

"_Captain, it appears we have landed in the center of the colony, in what on Earth would be referred to as a kind of 'town square'," Spock intoned. _

"_Lemme guess, this is where they perform all their pagan ritual slaughters," muttered McCoy humorlessly. _

"_On the contrary doctor, Thay'are is known as a peaceful colony, dedicated to intellectual and technological pursuits."_

"_Sounds a lot like Vulcan," Jim said, before he could stop himself. _

'_Great job Jim, you jackass. Just keep reminding your First Officer that he doesn't have a home planet anymore,' he thought sarcastically. _

_Yet if Spock was bothered by it, he did an excellent job of hiding it (for a half human, half Vulcan, that is). _

"_Perhaps to a human, there would appear to be similarities," he spoke as if giving them a lesson in cultural studies. "However, Thay'arians do not possess the Vulcan mastery of logic and emotional control, nor are they telepathic. Furthermore, we are different in regards to anatomy, culture, and ancestral lineage."_

"_Oh," was all Jim could say. The word 'awkward' briefly flashed across his brain, but he shook it off. _

"_Alright, well which one of these buildings is the Science one?" he asked, looking around._

"_I believe it is that one sir," offered Ensign Bowers. "I've studied Thay'arian architecture, and they design their buildings based off of geometrically—"_

"_Good work, Ensign," Jim interjected quickly, silencing the man before he could go off about Thay'arian architecture. Geez, at this rate he'd get a migraine before the day was through. _

"_Let's check it out," he said, leading the way up the white steps and beneath the stone arches. They entered a long, wide hallway, with walls covered with carvings of what appeared to be symbols from astronomy, geometry, physics, and other mathematical concepts Jim did not recognize._

_"Facinating," Spock murmured. _

"_Does it bother anyone else that we haven't actually seen any Thay'arians yet?" McCoy whispered. _

"_Maybe they're out to lunch," Jim flippantly replied, knowing it would tick Bones off. "Why are you whispering?"_

"_Because this place gives me the heebie-jeebies!" Bones hissed. Jim just chuckled. "Bones, relax, will you?"_

_Nevertheless, he flipped open his communicator._

"_Kirk to Enterprise, come in."_

"_This is the Enterprise, go ahead, Captain," came the voice of Uhura._

"_The Thay'arians know we're coming right?" he asked, a hint of humor in eyes as he looked over at Bones. _

"_Affirmative, sir. You are to meet a Thay'arian by the name of Marjarvaa, head scientist of the __Proginious __project, in their scientific facility known as Thay'are Center."_

_"Thank you Lieutenent, Kirk out."_

"_Thay'are Center?" Jim repeated, closing the comm. "Not very original, is it?" _

"_No Captain, but it is very practical. Science is the god of the Thay'arian culture, so it would make sense that the center of their colony is also the site of their scientific facility," Spock answered. "You may compare it to the colonial days of your own country on Earth, in which New England towns were centered around their religious buildings, to emphasize their society's god."_

_Hm. One of these days Jim was going to have to explain to Spock the concept of a rhetorical question. _

"_Ah, Captain Kirk, I presume," a heavily accented voice came from behind, visibly startling all four humans on the landing party. _

_The accent was a bit disconcerting. His voice was very high pitched, and the vowels very pronounced. _

_Even more baffling was the Thay'arian's bone structure. Spock had mentioned their difference in basic anatomy, but Jim had never quite seen a creature like this. _

_It (for Jim did not yet know if it was male or female) was about 6 foot tall, and rail thin. Its shoulder blades protruded out of its back almost, but not quite, like short stubby wings. Similarly, the collarbone met the sternum in such a way that it jutted out in a triangular shape. Its skin was pale, like that of a Vulcan, but its eyes were sunken and an off-color of grey mixed with flecks of green. _

"_Uh hi," Jim said, trying not to stare. "Are you Marjarvaa?"_

"_I am indeed," replied the Thay'arian. "Welcome to our colony."_

"_I don't mean to sound rude, but where're the rest of your people?" McCoy piped up, suspicion evident in his tone._

"_The rest of the colonists are currently participating in the Thay'rooj, a religious ceremony. It should conclude within the hour."_

"_I see," McCoy stated, satisfied, but not convinced. _

"_So what is this __Proginious __project?" Kirk asked. _

"_Ah yes, I'm sure you are most interested in our new technology. However, good diplomacy dictates that introductions come first."_

"_By all means," Kirk assented, hoping he hadn't sounded rude by asking about the Proginious project too soon. _

_"Marjarvaa, this is Dr. McCoy, Chief Medical Officer on the Enterprise, and this is my First Officer and Chief Science Officer, Spock. Behind me are Ensigns Bowers and Vovitchey." _

"_You are a Vulcan?" Marjarvaa asked, focusing beady eyes on Spock._

"_You are correct," Spock replied._

_Something shifted in the Thay'arian's expression, but it remained unreadable._

"_My condolences for the loss of your planet."_

_An almost pained look crossed Spock's face before quickly turning expressionless again. "Your condolences are appreciated."_

_Suddenly, Spock's communicator crackled with static. "Excuse me, Captain; Marjarvaa," he said before heading back toward the entrance of the building where he could accept the call from the Enterprise in private. _

"_So what is this place exactly?" asked Ensign Vovitchey. _

"_In Standard, this place would be called 'the great corridor'. Our own language has a much more sophistocated name for it. Our science facility is located in the back," Marjarvaa explained._

_"Ah, and here comes my lovely bondmate, or wife, as humans would say, Sajarmaa," he (now Jim knew it was a 'he') said, turning to what appeared to be a more feminine version of himself. She had the same eyes and the same bone structure; the only difference was the bright red hair flowing from her head down to her waist. _

"_Visitors, Marjarvaa?" she asked, gliding to stand next to him and place a slender hand on his arm._

"_Yes, my lovely, this here is Captain Jim Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise," he said, motioning toward Jim. "He is here on behalf of the Federation, to learn about the Proginious project."_

_There was something in her eyes when Marjarvaa told her his name that made Jim very uneasy, and he quickly looked over at Bones to see if he caught it. The doctor looked like he was going to say something, but was interrupted as Spock reappeared next to him._

"_Captain, unfortunately the ship is experiencing a technical malfunction with its computers. If it is not resolved quickly, it could affect communication with the ship and/or transporter functions."_

"_What kind of malfunction?" Jim asked, frowning._

"_From what I was told, it appears to be some kind of virus, however I am not sure. The most logical course of action would be for myself to beam back to the Enterprise and attempt to resolve the situation, as being the CSO I am most knowledgeable regarding the ship's computer systems."_

"_How the hell could a virus get in the ship's computers?" McCoy asked, angrily. Figured this would happen during a mission where_ he _was dragged on planet._

"_Are the transporters working?" Kirk asked the more pertinent question._

"_Currently yes, however Mr. Scott does not know how long it will be before the malfunction affects those computers as well. It would be best for me to beam aboard as soon as possible."_

"_I agree Mr. Spock," Jim said after a moment of thought. "The rest of us will stay down here until we fulfill our objective. Keep in touch."_

_Spock nodded._

"_Mr. Scott, one to beam up," he called into his communicator. _

"_Aye, Mr. Spock I gotchya," Scotty replied. Within seconds, Spock vanished in the flash of brilliant white light. _

"_A computer malfunction is most unfortunate," said Marjarvaa. Something in his voice was off, Jim instinctively knew, but he couldn't put his finger on it. _

"_Perhaps now would be a good time to show the Captain our new project?" suggested Sajarmaa her slender hand still wrapped around her husband's forearm._

"_Ah yes, Captain Kirk, if you would follow me. We think you will be quite pleased with our new project," said Marjarvaa, leading them further down the great corridor. _

_Jim held back for a moment._

"_Bones, something about this isn't right," he said. _

"_I know. Did you see the way she was grabbing onto his arm?" _

"_Yeah, what about it?"_

"_Well, Thay'arians are kinda like Vulcans. They don't like physical affection. The only time their culture deems it appropriate to touch one another in public is during times of great emotional duress, and she was gripping his arm like a life-preserver," Bones said in a hushed voice._

"_Alright, so we know something's not right. Let's not jump to any conclusions, yet," Jim said, leading them forward to follow behind Marjarvaa and his wife. _

_After walking silently for about five minutes, they came into a great circular room with high vaulted ceilings. In the center of the room stood what appeared to be a giant steel container. _

"_What is _that_?" McCoy exclaimed, bewildered. _

"_Inside of that room is the Proginious project. It is a highly sensitive chemical procedure, run by a giant computer, which enables us to manipulate genetics."_

"_What do you mean, 'manipulate'?" The doctor demanded, not liking where this was going at all. _

"_Well, perhaps you would rather be shown," Marjarvaa said, and for the first time, a slight smile graced his thin lips._

"_We were very excited to hear that the great James T. Kirk was coming to our colony. We have a gift for you, Captain," he said._

"_Gift?" Jim repeated, more as a statement than a question. This was not their typical diplomatic mission. He felt as if he was two moves behind in a game of chess—what was going on?_

"_Our technology allows us to recreate life, Captain Kirk."_

"_What the hell?" Jim heard McCoy hiss under his breath._

"_Our society values heroics, Jim. May I call you Jim?" Marjarvaa asked, but did not wait for a reply. "So we took extra care in creating this gift."_

_"We researched your culture and your history. We read about your father, George S. Kirk, who died heroically on the U.S.S. Kelvin. You grew up without a father in a society that values familial ties. We therefore thought this gift would gratify you immensely."_

_Marjarvaa raised a boney hand and snapped his fingers. _

_They all turned to see a tall figure, obviously human, emerge from the long shadows cast by the giant container. _

"_Sonuvabitch," McCoy whispered, voice shaking with fury._

_Jim just stood there, dumbstruck. He had no idea what was going on, but his gut was clenched so tight inside of him that it was making him dizzy._

_As the figure drew closer, Jim broke out in a cold sweat. The man was in his late-forties, with dusty graying hair and broad shoulders. The shape of his face looked familiar, but his eyes—his eyes were sharply blue, like his own. Those eyes were like looking in a mirror._

"_James T. Kirk, I would like you to accept this gift on behalf of Thay'are," Marjarvaa said, obviously pleased with himself. _

"_Excuse me?" Jim asked, his voice breathless. He felt as if all the air was being sucked out of the room, leaving him lightheaded._

"_Why, don't you realize?" Sajarmaa's voice was filled with pity. _

"_The man you are staring at is your father."_

* * *

**A/N**: Hehehe…I have to smile at leaving it here. It's just too perfect of a cliffie. Leave lots of reviews and maybe I'll update quicker. [Grins wickedly].


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer**: I own the plot—which has been securely leashed. I also got Bowers, Vovitchey, Marjarvaa and Sajarmaa. Yay me.

**Chapter 7**: Illusions

* * *

"_Why, don't you realize?" Sajarmaa's voice was filled with pity. _

"_The man you are staring at is your father."_

"_That's impossible!" Bones snarled, stepping forward dangerously. _

_Marjarvaa chuckled. "Quite the contrary; it was easier than you would think, doctor."_

"_How?" Bones demanded._

"_It is simple, really. All it takes is the right kind of deoxyribonucleic acid."_

"_DNA…you mean this is all just cloning?" Jim piped in, eyes never leaving the figure of the man standing in front of him. He looked pale, but his voice was firm. _

"_Not _just_ cloning, Captain. Our technology is the most sophisticated genetic manipulator in the galaxy, I can assure you."_

"_Cut with the arrogant scientist bullshit and get to the point," Jim shot back, hands suddenly clenched into fists. "How did you get my father's DNA?"_

"_You, Captain. We technically got it from you," Marjarvaa said. "We bought a vile of your blood off of the black market—it was a high price, I must say."_

"_They sell blood on the black market?!" Vovitchey exclaimed incredulously. He and Ensign Bowers were standing slightly behind McCoy, watching the scene with something akin to awe. _

_Rolling his eyes, McCoy responded, "You can get anything on the black market, kid."_

"_Who sold it to you?" Jim asked, turning a flinty glare on the scientist. _

"_I'm afraid I am unable to divulge such information," Marjarvaa replied. "As you know, DNA contains the hereditary characteristics of living organisms. Using merely a strand of your DNA and our powerful computer, we were able to locate and isolate your father's genetic chromosomes. We then implanted the resulting DNA into a human egg—"_

"_Lemme guess, the egg was bought on the black market as well?" Bones suggested dryly._

"_Of course," answered Marjarvaa. "We then placed the egg in our replicator, a computerized machine which reproduces cell at a highly accelerated rate."_

"_Meaning you aged him, really fast," Bones inserted. _

_Marjarvaa gave him an unmistakable look of annoyance before continuing. "The entire process took only a matter of months, followed by several more months of intense programming."_

"_Programming?" Jim's eyes narrowed._

"_Why yes," Marjarvaa replied, his voice betraying his irritation at all the questions. "Of course we had to program him."_

"_You brainwashed him!" Jim snapped, furious. _

"_Captain Kirk, I do not understand. Are you not pleased with our gift?"_

_Within seconds, and before anyone had time to react, Jim had Marjarvaa pinned against the wall; his left hand fisting the collar of the Thay'arian's robe while his right elbow pressed into his boney chest. _

_Sajarmaa had jumped aside, and now hovered nearby, eyeing the scene with trepidation. _

_The Captain's teeth were grit together as he forced out, "No, Marjarvaa, I do _not_ like your gift, and quite frankly, I don't like _you_ either!"_

"_Jim," a gentle voice called. _

_It was not Bones' voice. _

_Momentarily, Jim's eyes squinted shut, head tilting toward his chest. It was _his_ voice. _

_Jim had memorized that voice. His father's last recording to his mother on the fateful day of his birth had been preserved in a classified Starfleet file on the U.S.S. Kelvin disaster. _

_Once at the academy, Jim had easily hacked into the system. He'd downloaded the file and listened to the recording over and over again. _

_He knew his father's voice. And to hear it in person felt like a knife twisting in his chest. Jim let go of Marjarvaa and slowly turned, his knees suddenly feeling weak beneath him._

"_Jim, it's me. It's dad."_

_Jim shook his head emphatically. "No. You're not." _

_'Please don't. I can't do this,' he thought despairingly. _

"_I'm flesh and blood kid, see for yourself." He slowly began walking toward Jim, hand outstretched. _

"_I read about you, son. A starship Captain at the age of 25—you sure did one-up your old man."_

"_Stop it," Jim warned, tone suddenly tremulous. He couldn't take this. Surely he would break in two. _

"_Jim please. I know…I know that this seems crazy but…I am real. And God…to see you," his voice filled with emotion. "Son…it's so _good_ to see you."_

_He reached out then, lightly touching Jim's sleeve, but the younger man violently flinched away._

"_Don't touch me," he hissed, suddenly and maliciously angry. _

"_Jim…I—I'm your father…."_

"_No you're not. You just think you are." Jim countered, his expression raw. "My father died on the U.S.S. Kelvin, on the day of my birth. He was a hero. You're just a cheap imitation."_

_Turning sharply, he began walking toward the hallway. _

"_Jim? Where're you going?" McCoy asked, grabbing his arm. Jim shook him off, averting the doctor's gaze. _

"_We're leaving," was all he said. _

"_Leaving?!" Marjarvaa cried, rushing forward to block the Captain's exit. "You can't leave!" _

"_Marjarvaa, you're lucky I don't blow your damn little project to bits. Now get out of my way," Jim threatened. _

"_No, this—it wasn't supposed to go like this!" the Thay'arian insisted, almost pleading. "I gave you a gift!"_

"_Look, what do you want me say?" Jim exploded. "You want me to say that I appreciate the fact that you cloned my father; that you brainwashed that poor man into believing I was his son? Do you not understand how sick that is?! You can't play 'God'!" _

"_I apologize, Captain; believe me, I did not intend to offend you," Marjarvaa replied earnestly. "In our culture, your father is a highly revered man. We cloned him, just as we cloned other such great men. However, this is the first time we have attempted to…part…with one of our experiments."_

_Behind him, McCoy grunted at the word 'experiments'. _

"_Yeah, well thanks but no thanks," Jim said tonelessly, pushing past the Thay'arian and out into the corridor. _

_Suddenly, he was hit with a severe bout of vertigo. Stumbling against the wall, he frowned. Forcing his sluggish body around, he looked behind him. _

"_Bones?" _

_The doctor was slumped over on the ground, seemingly unconscious. Behind him lay both Ensigns, out cold. _

_Jim too was fighting his body's sudden listlessness. "Heyy wass goin' nnn?" He slurred as his legs gave out. _

_The last thing Jim heard as blackness encroached on his vision, was the solemn voice of Marjarvaa, saying,_

"_I'm sorry, Captain; but we cannot allow you to leave."_

* * *

_**A/N**__: _Don't forget to hit that little green button—tell me what you think. Also, I know very little about DNA. So all mistakes are mine, obviously. TBC…


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note**: Big thanks to all of my reviewers—you are all so encouraging! This will be my last update for few days, as I will be out of town this weekend.

**Warning**: Just a slight warning for what may be slightly more language in this chapter than usual. Nothing too bad though. I'm just trying to keep everybody in-character.

**Disclaimer**: I own the plot. And you should tell me what you think about it, for it is quite a trip.

Also, all mistakes are mine. I try to proofread but this one is longer and came out faster than normal. Feel free to let me know if you catch any errors.

**Chapter 8**: Catch-22

* * *

_Jim came to slowly, his mind seemingingly adrift in layers of thick fog. _

_He groaned as consciousness finally overtook him, bringing both hands up to press against his throbbing skull. Aside from a nasty headache, he was otherwise uninjured. _

_He sat up slowly, allowing a nearby wall to hold most of his weight as he leaned his upper body against it. _

_Looking around, he tried to get his bearings. He was in a small, dark room. It was not a cell, just a regular room devoid of furnishings of any kind. He was not chained or bound in any way. In fact, they'd left him not only his communicator, but his phaser as well. Jim didn't know whether they'd done so out of ignorance (and he doubted that) or whether the Thay'arians were just so powerful that they need not fear phasers or other modern technology. _

_Remembering what had transpired in the corridor, Jim suspected the latter._

"_Well, I guess it could be worse," he muttered to himself, and nearly jumped out of skin the next moment when he heard a reply from the shadows._

"_Glad to see you're awake, son."_

_Great. It would appear Marjarvaa stuck him in this room with the clone. Just great. _

_Sighing heavily, Jim shifted until his back was leaning against the wall. He was now facing the clone, who was staring at him intently from his corner across the room. _

"_Are you alright?" He asked, genuine concern glittering in familiar irises of blue._

"_I'm fine," Jim answered tersely, looking away. _

"_You're angry," surmised his father's look-alike. Jim didn't respond. _

_Maybe if he ignored the man long enough, he would leave him alone. _

_Silence permeated the atmosphere, and Jim let his tired mind fall into a doze. Vaguely he wondered where Bones and the two Ensigns were, and if there were okay. He figured the odds were that they were probably stuck in a room like he was, under similar circumstances. _

_Bones was probably going crazy, wondering where Jim was and if he was alright. The thought caused Jim's lips to quirk upward in a slight smile. _

_The smile faded as thoughts of his father's clone came to mind._

_Damned if this wasn't the weirdest mission. He was at a loss to sort out his feelings. He felt pity for the clone, who'd basically been brainwashed and was no doubt just as confused as Jim. There was also the deep pang of grief, as the sight of his father—'no don't call him that'—brought back a myriad of unpleasant feelings and memories._

_But worst of all, was the childish, idiotic hope that somehow, he'd been given a second chance. A chance to get to know George S. Kirk…a chance to know the man who was his father. _

_The hope had first flickered the moment his father's clone had stepped out of the shadows, and it had so unnerved Jim that he'd stuffed it down deep inside, replacing it with a more logical (Spock would scoff at that), or at least a more comfortable emotion—rage. _

_The Thay'arians had done a hell of a job of imitating George Kirk. The clone was everything Jim had ever expected his father had been—from the deep baritone voice to the angle of his jaw, the strength in his stance, and the broad breadth of his shoulders, culminating in the sharp intensity of those crystal blue eyes. It was so _real_ that it hurt. _

_Suddenly he wished Bones were here. Bones always seemed to know how to help him work through his tangled emotions, and then they'd end up laughing, slapping each others' backs and proceeding to get drunk off their asses. _

_Only Bones wasn't here. Jim was going to have to get through this one on his own. _

_Briefly he glanced across the room. _

_What do you say to a man who looks, sounds, and even acts like your dead father?_

"_Why do you hate me, Jim?" George asked suddenly._

_The words sliced through the silence between the two men, searing into the Jim's momentarily fragile emotional armor. _

_He'd spent much of his life hating a man he'd never met. Hating his father, simply because the man was never there. And he'd asked himself that very question many times throughout the years. 'Why do I hate him?' It's not as if George Kirk had died on purpose. Yet Jim could never rid himself of the rage he felt over the injustice, over the pain of his father's death. And now this…this man who looked and sounded so much like George S. Kirk, was asking him that very question. 'Why do you hate me?' _

_Perhaps it was because his brain was still fuzzy, recovering from its unconscious state. Perhaps it was the headache, or the emotional stress. But the bitter words started pouring out of Jim before he could stop them, before he even could even comprehend what he was saying. _

"_You wanna know why I hate you?" His voice was quiet but cold, and devoid of inflection. _

_Jim's eyes grew distant and dark as he retreated inward, the pain evident in the words he'd never gotten to say, but had felt and lived for the past 25 years. _

" _Because you chose your job, your ship, over mom and me. You got to be a damn hero, and you left us behind. And mom? She was all messed up, 'cause of you." He paused to shake his head, lolling it back and forth against the wall. "You know she married a real jackass, my stepdad." He grunted in disgust, then looked down at his hands, his next words softer and full of longing._

"_Things would have been so different if you'd have lived. I needed you…but," he swallowed down the sudden lump in his throat. "You were never there. And I've hated you for it."_

_The minutes ticked away as Jim sat, lost in memories. _

_He didn't even notice that "George" had crossed the space between them and was now sitting next to him._

"_I'm sorry, son."_

_Tears pricked the back of Jim's eyes, but he refused to turn and look at the man. _

"_Yeah, me too," he managed with difficulty. _

"_You know," the man began hesitantly. "I've spent my entire existence being George Kirk. Hell, I believe_ I am_ George Kirk. No amount of evidence to the contrary could shake that belief." He paused._

"_Earlier you called me a 'cheap imitation'. But regardless of what you say or think, it doesn't change what I believe, or what I feel." He continued, his voice breaking with emotion. _

_"I believe you are my son. I feel it with every fiber of my being. And I never thought I'd get the chance to see you. But for whatever reason, you're here now, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna just throw this chance away." He stared intently at Jim, who remained motionless next to him._

"_You said your father was never there for you. Well, give me a chance, Jim. Let me be here for you now."_

_Jim sighed, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. _

_Looking up finally, he said, "This unbelievably absurd, you know that, right? I mean this is just…bizarre."_

_The clone just chuckled, more out of relief than anything. _

"_Well,_ George_," Jim began, the name feeling strange on his tongue. "Do you have any idea why the hell they stuck us in this room?"_

"_I'm afraid I don't. All I know is that Marjarvaa got a little crazy when you said you were gonna leave."_

"_What'd he do to us anyway?" Jim asked as he cautiously rose to his feet._

"_Thay'arians have the ability to prick minds," George explained. "That's probably what happened."_

"_I thought they weren't telepathic," Jim said with a frown, remembering Spock's description of the Thay'arians. "Maybe they're just not touch-telepaths."_

"_Well it's not a natural ability for them. The most intelligent Thay'arians have taught themselves telepathy, and it takes a lot of mental energy to be able to do it. But Thay'arians are a peaceful, non-intrusive race. They rarely use such powers—it's the knowledge itself that gratifies them. All that to say that Marjarvaa must have been pretty desperate to use his powers on you."_

"_I don't get it," Jim said with a shake of his head. "None of this makes sense. Why would Marjarvaa be so pissed over the fact that I didn't want to accept his 'gift'?" _

"_Well 'gift' doesn't mean the same thing in Thay'arian that it does in Standard," George said. "A 'gift' to a Thay'arian is the equivalent of what in Standard would be a 'carrot', or a bribe."_

"_You've got to be kidding me," Jim groaned. "Shit. Of all the times I didn't bring Uhura on the landing party."_

"_Who's Uhura?" George asked out of curiosity. _

"_Oh, she's the Chief Communications Officer on the Enterprise," Jim replied. _

_He suddenly eyed George appraisingly. "Wait…you knew that Marjarvaa was bribing me. Why didn't you say anything?"_

_George shrugged. "This is all I know, kid," he said, raising his arms to indicate the entire Thay'arian colony. "The Thay'arians have always treated me with great respect. But I wouldn't be here if it weren't for them. They've programmed me, taken care of me since birth." He paused. "I owe everything to them. It wasn't my place to ask questions."_

_Something unsettled in the pit of Jim's stomach at the underlying meaning of such words, but he chose to ignore it for now. He had bigger concerns at the moment. _

_Pulling out his communicator, he flipped it open. "Enterprise, this is Kirk, come in." Nothing._

"_Kirk to Enterprise, do you copy?" Still nothing._

_Cursing in frustration, he snapped shut the comm. and shoved it back in his pocket. _

_Pulling out his phaser, he aimed it at the doors. "Stand back," he told George. "Maybe we can blast our way out of here."_

"_That won't be necessary, Captain." Jim straightened as the doors swished open and Marjarvaa and his wife entered the room._

"_You will find both your phaser and communicator inoperable. We have a sophisticated force field activated within a two mile radius of the center of town. We apologize for having to take such drastic measures."_

"_Yeah, I'm sure you're all torn up that I wouldn't accept your bribe," Jim snapped sarcastically. _

_Something akin to regret entered the gray-green eyes of the Thay'arian scientist. "It is not what you think, Captain."_

"_Enlighten me then," Jim replied caustically. "I want to know where the rest of my men are."_

"_The others are in a room similar to this. I promise you they are unharmed."_

"_I don't trust you," Jim growled._

"_Captain _please_. Allow me to explain myself. There is not much time." Something in the Thay'arian's voice silenced Jim. _

_Marjarvaa sighed before continuing. "You would never have known about your father's clone had it not been for the threats we've been receiving from the Klingons."_

"_Klingons?!" Jim gaped. 'Well, this just keeps getting better and better', he thought sardonically._

"_Yes Captain. The Klingons found out about our technology several months ago. They have made many threats against the colony since then, and once even attempted to break in to our science facility."_

"_Did you report this to the Federation?" Jim asked._

_Marjarvaa sighed again. "I'm afraid we did not. We did not wish for the Federation's interference in our lives. Privacy, Captain, is integral to our society. Instead, we took a more…unorthodox approach."_

"_Explain," Jim prodded impatiently._

"_We told the Federation about our technology, assuring them it could be of great value to them. We assumed that by having at least one Federation starship nearby, it would be enough to keep the Klingons at bay, or at least to offer minimal protection should the colony come under attack. But the Klingons have been increasing their threats. They beamed down to our colony a day after we learned that you were coming."_

"_Aw geez," Jim murmured, already knowing where this story was headed._

"_We would not tell them what or where the Proginious project was, and despite their looting, they could not find it. They became angry, and threatened to obliterate our entire colony. I told them that such an act would be suicide, since the Enterprise was on its way and was sure to find out."_

"_And that's where I came in," Jim said knowingly._

"_Yes. They knew of the great James T. Kirk, Captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise. They told me to deliver you to them, or else risk annihilation. In exchange they promised to forget about the Proginious project and leave our colony in peace. I did not wish to force you into such a sacrifice. Since we had already cloned George Kirk, I believed he would be a sufficient…bribe, as you say. Only you did not understand my meaning."_

"_So let me get this straight," Jim said irritably. "You were trying to bribe me by giving me…my father, in exchange for me agreeing to turn myself over to the Klingons, which you think is going to save your colony."_

"_Yes," answered Marjarvaa. "We were sure that the gift of your father was an equitable exchange. I did not understand your disagreement." _

_Jim sighed heavily. _

"_Turning myself over to Klingons means certain death—why in the world would you think I would agree to such a thing?"_

_Marjarvaa's eyes widened. "We thought no such thing! We have done much research, Captain. Why, with you and your crew's penchant for survival in the face of such great odds, we were sure that your crew would be able to save you before it came to that."_

"_And once we were out of danger, we too would assist in your rescue as well as the destruction of the malicious race of Klingons," Sajarmaa spitefully added. _

"_Oh great, so basically you were planning to start a war between the Klingons and the Federation," Jim said in exasperation. "And I'd be the bait right in the middle of it."_

"_Marjarvaa, you never told me of such a plan," George said accusingly. _

"_It was not necessary, George. We thought it would be enough for you to see your son. Besides, we had to do what was necessary for the good of our people."_

"_You Thay'arians sure are manipulative bastards, I'll give you that," Jim commented darkly. "When will the Klingons be arriving?" _

"_You misunderstand Captain," Marjarvaa replied sadly. "The Klingons are already here."_

"_What?!" George hissed in horror. _

"_I'm sorry. We did not expect them to come so soon." Marjarvaa's tone was one of obvious remorse._

"_You know for all your supposed intelligence, you're pretty stupid," Jim said in frustrated disgust. "You left out the one key factor that could have saved us all."_

_Marjarvaa frowned inquisitively._

"_Klingons don't make promises, and if they do, they don't keep them. You just sentenced your people to death."_

* * *

"_Commander Spock, I have recently detected energy frequencies on ze other side of Thay'ruuva, one of ze planet's moons. Ze readings are consistent vith vhat vould appear to be a cloaked Klingon Varship," helmsman Pavel Chekov reported, a bit of surprise in his voice._

_Spock immediately rose from the command chair and walked over to Chekov's station, peering over the boy's shoulder to read the data himself. _

_Upon his return to the ship, Spock and Scotty had worked feverishly to find the source of the computer malfunctions. They had been unsuccessful. _

"_I concur with your analysis of the readings, helmsman," he said. Briskly walking back to the command chair, he punched a button on its arm. "Spock to Engineering."_

"_Aye, Commander, go ahead."_

"_Mr. Scott, have you received any transmissions from the landing party in the past two hours?"_

"_Negative, Spock, naugh' a word."_

"_Very well. I want you to go to the transporter room and see if you can locate their present positions. Spock out."_

"_Aye sir." Scotty replied._

"_Lieutenant Uhura, try contacting the Captain."_

"_This is the Enterprise, calling Captain Kirk, come in." She frowned, turning a few dials at her station._

"_Captain Kirk, this is the Enterprise, please respond." Looking over at Spock, she shook her head. "Commander it appears there is something interfering with our communications." _

"_Sir, nothing in our data would suggest that the cause of the obstructions is something planet-side," Sulu reported. _

"_Agreed, Mr. Sulu, but we cannot be too careful. Lt. Uhura, continuing attempting to reach the landing party. Hail them at five minute intervals. Mr. Chekov, continue monitoring those frequencies and inform me of the slightest change. Mr. Sulu, raise shields."_

_At the helmsman's somewhat alarmed glance, he assured, "Merely a precaution, Mr. Sulu. If we know that the Klingons are here, the probability is high that they already are, or will be, aware of our existence as well."_

"_Commander, this is Scotty, come in," crackled the command chair's communicator._

"_Go ahead, Mr. Scott," Spock replied. _

"_I am unable to locate the landing party's current position. Somethin's wrong with our scanners. Do you think we failed to neutralize the computer virus?"_

"_It is possible, Mr. Scott. I shall meet you in the transporter room. Spock out."_

"_Mr. Sulu, you have the Con.", he said as he rose to leave. _

_Uhura rose from her seat as well, following Spock into the turbolift. _

"_Uhura, you must remain at your station," Spock admonished. She ignored him. _

"_What are the odds that the cause of the malfunctions in our computers has to do with that Klingon warship?" _

_He paused, studying her with solemn eyes._

"_The likelihood that the Klingons have somehow implanted a virus in our ship's computers is approximately 74.8%."_

_She nodded, having expected as much. _

"_And what are the odds that the Captain and the rest of the landing party are in danger?"_

_Spock exhaled slowly. "I can assure that it is almost a guarantee."_

* * *

**TBC….**

**A/N: **Reviews make a writer's heart smile :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note**: So uh…only 3 reviews for chapter 8 out of over 200 hits? (Pouts) I mean I don't want to be pathetic but, honestly. Do you all not like the story anymore? Was chapter 8 that boring? Hm. Perhaps I shall endeavor to make things more interesting.

Here's hoping you all will find this chapter more review-worthy. : )

To those who have reviewed—Thanks is not enough. Your words of encouragement mean more than you can know. Constructive criticism is always welcome, as well.

**Disclaimer**: Defined as "the refusal to accept responsibility" or "a statement renouncing legal right". Thus, I have no legal/commercial rights of ownership to Star Trek or its characters.

Those belong to brighter individuals than I.

_Italics_ are flashbacks. Regular font is present time.

**Chapter 9**: Stand Off

* * *

Silence permeated the atmosphere of the doctor's quarters.

For the past hour, Jim had been telling his version of the Thay'arian disaster, filling in plot-holes for his CMO and First Officer.

After mentioning the arrival of the Klingons, Jim had stopped talking, reaching shakily for the glass of water Bones had left on his nightstand.

Spock, sensing the Captain's distress, had then interjected his own account of having discovered the cloaked Klingon warship orbiting one of the planet's moons.

"It was all one big damn charade," Bones commented darkly. "How could they have been so stupid?"

"On the contrary doctor," Spock began. "While their methods may have been…peculiar, their actions were not illogical."

"They should have contacted the Federation at their first encounter with the Klingons!" McCoy countered fiercely. "Instead they turned it into some kind of game of roulette, with Jim here as the pawn!"

Spock shook his head almost imperceptibly. "I must continually remind you doctor, that not every species' cognitive processes reflect those of humans. The Thay'arians merely did what they deemed necessary for the survival of their race. Though they turned out to be in error, we cannot argue against their intentions."

"_Intentions_!" McCoy was turning red at this point. "Don't you _dare_ try and say those damn Thay'arians had good intentions after what they did! I was _down_ there, Spock. I know what happened; Jim knows!"

He jabbed his finger at the figure in the bed.

"Bones, when's the last time you had any sleep?" Jim asked quietly, compassionate blue eyes scrutinizing the doctor's haggard appearance.

The older man sagged, shoulders slumping, eyes lowering to gaze at the floor. As if just realizing how emotionally unstable he'd sounded, he blinked and rubbed a hand over his eyes.

"I can't remember," he said finally. "Spock, I'm sorry. We all need to figure this out and keep our heads on straight and I—well, I lost my cool."

He looked up to meet the Vulcan's stare and was surprised to see Spock's normally inscrutable expression filled with empathy and concern.

"No offense was taken doctor, therefore no apology is required."

McCoy sighed, then turned to the bed and whipped out his tricorder.

"Jim, how are you holding up?" He asked, frowning in concentration as he studied the readings. The numbers showed signs of obvious stress and fatigue, but no real deterioration in the Captain's condition.

"I'm alright," Jim said, struggling to maneuver his tired body so he was sitting more upright. Doctor and First Officer reached out simultaneously, each grabbing an arm or a shoulder to help their friend into a more comfortable position.

McCoy had to stop himself from smiling.

He and Spock were a team, the gravitational force of Jim pulling them together as orbiting moons circling a planet.

Once Jim was settled, McCoy turned to lean against the nearby wall while Spock resumed his stance, hands clasped loosely behind his back, next to the bed.

"Captain, I still do not know what happened between your awakening in the room with your father's clone and your return to the Enterprise."

Jim's countenance visibly darkened. He swallowed convulsively, thinly veiled emotions barely kept in check.

"Spock, maybe we should wait—"

"There is no more time to delay, doctor. We cannot decide on a course of action unless we know exactly what transpired on that planet."

He turned to Jim, brown eyes almost pleading. "Jim. I understand that you have been physically and emotionally impaired by these recent events. Nevertheless, I need to know what happened." He paused, as if considering the repercussions of his next words. "If you would prefer, there is another way to obtain the information, should you not wish to express yourself verbally."

"Are you out of your Vulcan mind?!" McCoy shot forward. "A mind meld? In his condition?!"

"That won't be necessary, Spock," Jim said quickly.

He would never admit it, but he held no small amount of fear of mind melds, ever since Delta Vega. It was an experience he was still trying to process, even months later, and he was not looking forward to going through it again anytime soon.

Nodding at Bones as if to say 'stand down', Jim's shoulders stiffened as his minded drifted to the unwanted memories of the recent past.

* * *

"_You misunderstand Captain," Marjarvaa replied sadly. "The Klingons are already here."_

"_What?!" George hissed in horror. _

"_I'm sorry. We did not expect them to come so soon." Marjarvaa's tone was one of obvious remorse._

"_You know for all your supposed intelligence, you're pretty stupid," Jim said in frustrated disgust. "You left out the one key factor that could have saved us all."_

_Marjarvaa frowned inquisitively._

"_Klingons don't make promises, and if they do, they don't keep them. You just sentenced your people to death."_

_Marjarvaa was about to reply, when a rather large Klingon burst through the door. Marjarvaa grabbed onto his wife and stepped back a few steps. _

"_No more talk!" The Klingon barked in broken Standard. "Bring prisoner!" Two more Klingon warriors appeared at his side, shoving past him to get to Jim. _

"_No!" George cried, and to Jim's surprise, stepped in front of him. "Marjarvaa--they'll kill him. Do something!" _

_The Thay'arian leader just shook his head sadly. "Everything has already been done, George. I am sorry."_

_Easily shoving the older man out of the way, the two Klingons flanked Kirk, dragging him by his upper arms out of the room._

_Once in the hallway, Jim looked to his right to see McCoy, Bowers, and Vovitchey receiving the same treatment as they were manhandled out of an adjacent room. _

_Bones was glaring at him, trying to ascertain his medical condition from afar, and Jim gave him a small, reassuring grin. _

_He remained quiet as the Klingons grouped them together to lead down the hall. In all he counted eight. _

'_Four against eight isn't too bad of odds,' Jim told himself. It wasn't as if they had much of a choice. They'd been forced into this stand off with the Klingons, and now they would have to fight to get out alive. Their escape certainly wasn't probable, but they had to try. _

_He waited until they had walked a few feet down the hallway before abruptly making his move._

_Violently twisting his arm out of one Klingon's grasp, he slammed his free fist into the other's face with a satisfying crunch. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw McCoy and the two Ensigns had attempted similar moves on their captors. Even George had joined in the melee, further improving their numbers._

_Grabbed roughly from behind, Jim threw both elbows back into the solar-plexus of Klingon #2 before turning to deliver a forceful punch to the alien's nose. He dodged a fist, then delivered another blow to the Klingon's side. Reacting faster than his larger opponent, Jim wrapped a hand around the alien's throat and slammed him head first into the wall, making sure his own body weight added to the momentum. __As the Klingon fell to the ground, Jim stepped back, bending to put his hands on his knees. _

_He'd taken only a few seconds to catch his breath, watching to make sure the Klingon he'd just knocked down was indeed unconscious. Then he heard McCoy's shout. _

"_Jim!"_

_Arms of steel seized around his torso with such force that he was lifted off of his feet. _

_Then they began to squeeze, with bone-crushing force, and Jim couldn't breathe—couldn't think, past the pain. _

_He screamed as he felt one bone crack, then two, and black spots danced in front of his vision as he scrabbled in vain to free himself. Vaguely, he could hear his captor laughing, and he realized, humiliated, that hot tears of pain were streaking down his face. _

_The arms loosened a bit, and Jim inhaled deeply; only to have the air forced out of him as he was squeezed again, another scream being torn from his throat. _

_Suddenly, right before he was about to lose consciousness, the arms fell away, and Jim found himself lying on the floor. _

_McCoy's face came into view, a split lip marring a face full of worry. _

"_Damn it Jim,_ breathe_!"_

_Oh. Yeah, that would be a good idea. _

_Jim hadn't realized he wasn't breathing, but that explained the detached feeling and distorted vision. He gasped, pain exploding in his chest. _

_Rolling onto his side, he curled into a protective ball as he tried to pull himself together. _

"_Jim…Jim there's no time. We've got to get out of here." The doctor's voice was frantic, but the hand clamped around Jim's elbow was firm. "Can you walk?"_

"_I'm fine," Jim answered breathlessly. "That guy was huge, though." _

"_Yeah, you've definitely got at least three busted ribs," McCoy noted, helping Jim to his feet. _

"_You're lucky the clone there knows how to fight."_

_Jim looked around, eyes taking in the 8 unconscious Klingon warriors, his two bloody and disheveled Ensigns, and then George, who was breathing hard but seemingly no worse for the wear. _

_These Klingons were fierce warriors, for crying out loud, and stronger than humans. How the hell had they overpowered them so quickly? _

_He gave George a confused stare. _

"_Advanced hand to hand combat was part of my programming," the older man explained hastily. "Now follow me. We've got to disable force field so that you can contact your ship." _

_"More like he was genetically engineered to fight like that," McCoy muttered in Jim's ear. The Captain nodded, eyebrows raised, clearly impressed. _

_"Hey, it certainly came in handy."_

_No one noticed or cared that Marjarvaa and Sajarmaa had disappeared. _

_McCoy slipped an arm under Jim's and across his back, supporting him as they hurried after the clone. They ran until they reached a room at the other end of the building, filled with all sorts of high-tech equipment. _

"_I believe our pointy-eared friend would find this fascinating," McCoy said, eyeing the foreign technology. _

"_Over here," George called, standing over a workstation with many switches and dials. "This is the machine which operates the force field."_

_Jim shrugged Bones off, walked over to the workstation and stared at it for a moment before flicking switches and pushing buttons seemingly at random. His face was a mask of concentration. _

"_You do know what you're doing, right?" McCoy asked, standing next to him tensely. _

"_No, not really," Jim answered immediately. "But I'll figure it out."_

_He paused, frowning, then forced open a control panel on the top of the workstation. Reaching inside, he fisted a handful of wires and chords and yanked mightily. Sparks flew, the control panel began to smoke, and the lights went out. Obviously they had knocked out the force field, among other things. _

_"An act of pure genius, Jim," Bones said sarcastically. He was ignored._

"_Vovitchey, Bowers, check your phasers and set them to stun. You too, Bones," Jim said while simultaneously flipping out his communicator. _

_Distant shouts and bangs could be heard, no doubt the rest of the Klingons had been alerted to their location._

"_Kirk to Enterprise." A moment of static, then,_

"_Captain, this is the Enterprise, we read you loud and clear," Uhura's voice sounded beautiful._

"_Uhura, listen to me. You get Scotty to the engine room and as soon as he locks on our position, you beam us out. Understood?" _

"_Yes, Captain. However the current computer malfunctions are preventing our use of the transporter. Commander Spock and Mr. Scott are working on it now."_

_Jim pursed his lips, eyes set with determination. _

"_You tell them that if they don't get those computers up and running there won't be a landing party to beam back up!" He said, gripping the communicator tightly. "Kirk out." _

_Pocketing the comm., he pulled out his phaser and set it to stun. _

_The noises from the hall were getting closer, louder._

_Crouching low, he hid with McCoy and the clone behind a large piece of equipment. The Ensigns followed suite a few feet away. _

"_As soon as those bastards come through that door, you fire at will," Jim said authoritatively. _

_They nodded, watching the door anxiously. _

"_You got a weapon, George?" he asked. _

"_Just my hands, if they get that close," the clone responded. _

_Jim nodded grimly. He knew Klingons fought to the death. "We'll need you."_

_The Klingons were now right outside the door, their deep guttural voices loud as they attempted to force open the door. _

"_Well Bones, it's been real," Jim said, so quiet the doctor barely heard him. _

_He shot Jim a questioning glance, startled._

"_It's called levity, Bones," Jim responded with a snort, lips quirking up into a slight grin. "Just keeping you on your toes."_

_McCoy rolled his eyes. "Just don't get yourself killed."_

_That's when the door flew open, and all hell promptly broke loose. _

* * *

**A/N:** Had to leave it here if I wanted to post anything before the weekend. TBC….


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's note: **This chapter was a bit difficult to write, as I had to make sure there were no continuity errors. It was a little messy, but I think I took care of it. All the same, if you notice anything funky, let me know.

**Disclaimer:** I think I've stated my position pretty eloquently, but just to be safe. I own plot. 'Tis all.

**Chapter 10**: Breaking Point

* * *

_The battle was short and bloody._

_Jim knew they would be outnumbered but he wasn't expecting well over a dozen Klingons to come busting through the doorway, phasers-blazing, so to speak. _

_Almost immediately, Ensign Bowers went down. McCoy moved to get to him, but was stopped by Jim._

"_Bones, don't you dare!" The Captain barked. "You stay here and keep firing, or we'll all end up dead!"_

_Firing one-handed, Jim used his left hand to reach behind him for his communicator. _

"_Kirk to Enterprise," he called above the din of phaser fire and the guttural shouts of the Klingons._

"_This is –prise," he could barely make out Uhura's voice._

"_Uhura, _beam us up _now!" He aimed for a Klingon hiding behind a large piece of equipment and fired, hitting the alien high in the shoulder._

"_M' sorry Cap— trans— not function—" _

"_Damn it!" Jim hissed, snapped the communicator closed. Off to his right, he saw Vovitchey take a hit to his arm, nothing life threatening though, as the man was still firing with his good hand. _

"_What's your plan Jim, if the Enterprise can't beam us out?" McCoy asked urgently._

"_I'm working on it," Jim replied distractedly, fatally wounding a Klingon with a blast of phaser beam._

_Soon, it became apparent that the Klingons were ceasing fire. _

_McCoy took advantage of the lull in action to check on Ensign Bowers, while the Captain waited tensely for the next move._

_A large Klingon, with the markings of a well-respected warrior, moved slowly to the center of the room. _

"_Captain Kirk, there is no need for more violence in this arena," he called in accented but otherwise perfect Standard._

"_That's funny, I thought Klingons liked violence," Jim retorted warily._

_The warrior laughed, "It is true that we like a good fight, however, this," he motioned at the walls of the room, "is not a challenge for us. We require something more from you, Captain."_

"_Oh yeah, and what would that be?" 'Come on Spock, fix the damn transporter!' he thought desperately._

"_You will see. We will take you to our commander. He is waiting outside."_

"_Look I know about the trade. Marjarvaa told us about the supposed deal he made with you. I'll come with you quietly, if you allow my men to leave."_

"_No, Jim!" McCoy hissed. _

"_Do your job, Bones, and let me do mine," Jim responded icily. _

"_I _am_ doing my job. Bowers is dead. And the same is gonna happen to you, if you go with them!"_

"_You will come with us Captain, or _all_ of your men will die," the Klingon shouted back. "You have one minute!"_

"_Pushy," Jim muttered. Turning to George, he whispered, "Listen, we need to get out of here. What can you do?" _

"_If I can get to the other side of the building, there's a kind of boiler room. I can create a big enough explosion to bring the whole building down. Should be enough of a distraction so that you can make a get-away. But it will destroy the Proginious Project." _

"_If we can't beam out of here, then that's our only option. How much time will we have?"_

"_Ten minutes, give or take," George responded._

"_Do it." Jim said, eyes intent._

_George nodded, the hint of a proud smile on his lips. "Be careful, son."_

_Jim hesitated only a second, "You too, George."_

_Turning back to the Klingons, he called out, "Alright, we're coming!" _

_Kirk stood slowly, thumb hooked loosely around his untrained phaser. McCoy followed suite, helping the injured Ensign Vovitchey. George stayed crouched out of sight, banking on the fact that, because he hadn't been firing a phaser, the Klingons didn't know of his presence._

"_Step forward and throw your phasers on the ground," the Klingon ordered. _

_After doing so, they were promptly surrounded by the remaining Klingons, several of whom searched them for other weapons. Kirk fumed as one Klingon ripped his communicator from his pants and threw it against the wall, where it broke into many fragmented pieces._

_Ensign Vovitchey stumbled suddenly, unsteady on his feet due to blood loss. The Klingon leader turned to him and sneered. "We have no use for the weak." _

_He grunted, and in one swift move the Klingon who'd been standing directly behind the Ensign reached out and snapped the man's neck with a sickening crack. Just like that. _

_As the Ensign's lifeless body slumped to the floor, Kirk flew into a rage. Striking out with his fists, he roared, putting up quite a scuffle against their captors. He was quickly subdued though, after one Klingon bashed him in the head with the butt of his phaser. _

_Jim went limp, blood seeping from a gash at his hairline. McCoy was secretly grateful, as he mentally catalogued all of the Captain's injuries and did not wish for any more to be added to the list. _

_He knew the chances for their getting out of this one alive grew slimmer with each passing minute._

* * *

"_Status report, Mr. Scott," Spock demanded upon entering the transporter room. _

_This was the third tim__e after he and Mr. Scott had figured out the potential formula for reversing the virus that he had come to the transporter room to check on the Chief Engineer's implementation progress. _

_Scotty was sitting next to the control station, parts and wires strewn around him and a PADD in his lap. He was scribbling furiously, brow furrowed in concentration._

"_Mr. Scott, have you made any progress?" Spock tried again. _

"_Aye Commander, this formula is complicated even by my standards, but it should successfully reverse the effects of the computer virus."_

"_Very well, what is your estimated time of completion?" _

"_I cannae say, Commander."_

"_I need an estimate, Mr. Scott," Spock insisted._

"_Then I'd say I need at least thirty minutes, Commander."_

"_The landing party does not have thirty minutes, Mr. Scott. Approximately 2 minutes ago, the Captain relayed a distress call with orders to beam the landing party back to the ship immediately. Sensors indicate that the Klingons are in the direct vicinity of the landing party, and until we fix the transporter, we will be unable to assist."_

"_I understand that Mr. Spock, but I can't go any faster without risking making a critical error. I've got to have thirty minutes!"_

_Spock merely stared at him, and for a moment Scotty wondered if the Vulcan was holding in an outburst of frustration. _

"_If there is any way I can assist you, Mr. Scott, please let me know. I will be on the Bridge." Was all he said, and turned briskly to leave._

"_I care about them too, Commander," Scotty said softly, hands stilling over the PADD. "And I'm gonna do everything in my power to bring 'em back."_

_Spock stopped in the doorway, shoulders stiffening slightly at the Engineer's words._

"_I know you will, Mr. Scott." Spock said finally, the doors to the transporter room closing behind him with a mechanized swish. _

* * *

_Jim found himself standing in the center of the colony, flanked by two Klingons. Bones was standing off to his right, in a similar fashion. The colonists, all 115, had been rounded up and made to stand against the outer wall of Thay'are Center. _

_Kirk was livid after the cruel and senseless death of his Ensign. He was also desperately furious, for things had spiraled out of his control a long time ago, and it was only getting worse._

_The adrenaline coursing through his veins helped him to ignore the blood running down the side of his face, as well as the dull ache from what he knew to be several cracked ribs. It felt like electricity flowing through his limbs, and he could barely restrain himself from breaking free of the Klingons' grasp and starting a brawl. Yet he controlled himself, because there was much more at stake, and he knew the cards were stacked against him. _

_Their only hope was to be transported out, but there was no way of knowing if the transporter could be fixed anytime soon. _

_The Klingon high commander stepped toward him, a towering creature with two jagged scars marring the left side of his face. _

"_You will tell us which one of these Thay'arians holds the knowledge of the Proginious project!"_

_It was just as Jim had suspected. The Klingons never intended to leave the Thay'arians alone. They were working to get both ends of the bargain—the Proginious project _and_ the Starship Captain. _

"_Why? What do you want with him?" Kirk asked levelly, already knowing what the answer would be._

"_We will assimilate his knowledge for our own purposes."_

"_And then you'll kill him once he's no longer use to you," Kirk retorted angrily. _

"_That is not your concern," the commander growled._

"_As a Federation Captain, it is damn well my concern," said Jim, eyes flashing daggers. "I suggest that you return to your ship peacefully, and leave this planet, before you do something you'll regret. Need I remind you of the penalty for the kidnap and assault of a Starfleet officer?"_

_The second part was a speech out of Spock's playbook. Jim had it memorized. He'd never played nicely with others, yet Spock was a consummate diplomat; and though he would never admit it, Jim had learned a lot from watching his First Officer's interactions with the many species they'd encountered over the past 3 months. _

_McCoy glanced over at Jim sharply. If he was quoting Spock, things must be heading downhill fast. Jim never quoted Spock unless he was seriously close to losing his temper. On second thought, Jim could just be spewing out the rehearsed words to save time. Maybe he was just in the process of thinking up a way out of this crazy mess. _

_The Klingon commander threw back his head and let loose a deep, throaty laugh._

"_You are in no position to make such demands. We are in control. You are outnumbered. You would be wise to give me the information I seek."_

"_And if I don't?" Jim replied, mind reeling to think of a way out of looming disaster._

"_If you don't," the commander's eyes darkened. "Then all of these people will die, because of you. And then, after you have watched them suffer, you too will die."_

_Jim's face gave away nothing, but his mind was racing. This was quickly going from bad to worse._

"_What will it be, Captain Kirk?" the commander sneered in his face. "The death of one man, or the death of the entire Thay'are colony…including your father?"_

_Jim's head jerked to his left as his father's clone was dragged roughly over to the Klingon commander. _

"_I'm sorry, son. They had the passageway blocked off—" he was brought to his knees by a punch to the abdomen. _

"_Alright, leave him alone," Jim's voice was like granite, but Bones could see the tremors running through him. Nor did it escape his attention, that Jim never corrected the Klingon about referring to the clone as his father._

"_Captain, we know that you know who the leader of the Proginious project is. Tell us, and we will spare his life."_

"_I don't trust you."_

"_You have no other choice," the commander retorted, delivering a vicious kick to the clone's head. _

"_Look—" He was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Marjarvaa. _

"_I am who you seek," the Thay'arian said, standing tall._

"_Marjarvaa, don't," Kirk called, but the alien merely held up a hand._

"_I regret the pain I have caused you, Captain. I was a fool. I made a great error on behalf of my people. It is only right that I hand myself over to spare more bloodshed."_

_The Klingon commander laughed again as two of his henchmen began to drag the Thay'arian leader away. _

"_Jim, look," McCoy whispered suddenly, eyes fixated on the Thay'arians huddled against the wall of the Scientific Center. _

_They were indeed huddled, in a circle, heads bowed, and they were…chanting. _

_Suddenly the wind began to pick up, and the ground trembled slightly. _

_Jim could not stop himself from grinning. The Thay'arians were fighting back, using their mental powers._

_The Klingon commander noticed the chanting circle and fired on it, only to have the beam deflected by some sort of force field. Jim smiled._

_Roaring in anger, the Klingon pointed the phaser at Jim. "You will die!"_

_Eyes widening, Jim attempted to squirm free of the Klingon soldiers holding each of his arms, to no avail. Even though the wind was picking up, a shot from such close distance could be fatal. _

_He closed his eyes, heard the phaser shot, and…felt nothing. Instead, he heard the maniacal laughter of the Klingon commander. _

_Opening his eyes and looking down, he was horrified to see George sprawled in front of him, red blood spreading across his shirt._

_The ground gave a powerful lurch, and everyone but the Thay'arians were thrown off their feet. The buildings around them were beginning to crumble, and the Klingon warriors were scrambling about and getting crushed by falling and flying debris._

_Jim crawled across the shuddering ground to where George lay. _

_Taking the clone's hand, he refused to look at the chest wound. "How you doing, George?" He asked, leaning close to be heard over the wind. _

"_Jim? Are you alright? He-he didn't hurt you, did he, son?" _

_Jim swallowed back the lump in his throat. _

"_No, I'm fine, thanks to you."_

"_Jim!" Bones knelt beside him, immediately checking over the injured man with his hands._

_Jim squinted at him, asking the question silently. The Doctor shook his head. _

"_In these conditions, without my equipment, there's nothing I can do."_

_They flinched together as a large chuck of building fell to the ground nearby. _

_Chaos was all around them, but Jim only had eyes for the man on the ground in front of him. _

* * *

"_Mr. Scott to Bridge!" The Engineer's excited voice came over the intercom._

"_Yes, Mr. Scott?" Spock replied from the command chair._

"_The transporter is up and runnin'!" _

_A collective cheer rose from those on Bridge, and the Vulcan among them raised his eyebrows._

"_Beam the landing party aboard immediately, Mr. Scott," Spock ordered. _

"_Commander," Uhura called, standing suddenly. "Requesting permission to assist Mr. Scott in the transporter room."_

_Spock looked at her, knowingly. The request was illogical, though he understood on some level her human need to be there when the landing party beamed up. His knee-jerk, Vulcan response was, 'No Lt., it is not necessary for you to assist Mr. Scott, as he is quite capable of performing his duties.' _

_But he stopped himself. If he was brutally honest with himself, he wanted to be down in that room too. Those were, however illogical the concept may be, his friends. They were Uhura's friends too. Really, it would not hurt if she left the Bridge for a few moments, would it? Her presence in the transporter room might even be beneficial. He did some quick calculating, and came to that very conclusion. _

_Nodding slowly, he said, "Lt. Uhura, please inform me as soon the landing party is safely onboard, and should you need any medical assistance."_

"_Yes sir," she replied brightly, and Spock had to restrain the emotion of deep satisfaction he felt when he saw her eyes light up in gratitude._

* * *

"_Jim…Jim…" Jim ducked his head closer to hear the wounded man's words._

"_I'm here," he answered, gripping the clone's hand more tightly._

"_It was good…to see you. Grown…into a good man. Good Captain. I can see it."_

_Jim felt hot tears prick his eyes. Bones looked away. _

"_So much I missed…I'd—I'd hoped…we'd have a second chance…father and son…." He coughed, a thick trickle of blood dribbling from his mouth. _

_Jim was overcome. His head knew that this wasn't really his father. So why was his heart being shredded in two?_

_They say the heart knows what the mind cannot. Jim's heart saw his father not only in the image of this man, clone or not; but also in his spirit, for he sacrificed himself to save him just as Jim's real father had on the day of his birth._

_So, for the boy who never had the chance to call anyone his 'daddy', this _was_ his father… and he was dying in his arms. _

_Worse—it was all Jim's fault._

_Reaching out blindly, he latched onto McCoy's shirt sleeve. "Bones, do something," he begged brokenly._

"_Jim…I can't," the Doctor replied, helpless. _

"_S'okay Jim-bo, s'okay. I'll…be in…good place. I-I'm proud of you, son. Know that…that I love you."_

"_I know. Love you too." Jim whispered. George's breaths were coming in shallow gasps, and Jim knew he was dying._

"_Please don't go, dad. Please don't leave me again," he pleaded like a child, desperate tears streaming down dirty cheeks._

"_S'for you. Did it…for you." His face slackened, the familiar blue eyes grew dull, and Jim, panicked, put his hands on the dying man's shoulders._

"_Nonononono…stay with me! Dad! Don't go! Dad!" His voice had risen until he was screaming._

"_Jim!" McCoy's firm hand was gripping his arm. "He's gone."_

_Jim's bright blue eyes were large and full of tears. McCoy knelt next to him on one knee, studying him with concern._

_And as the world around them crumbled, Jim hardly noticed when the familiar white lights of the transporter beam swirled around them to take them home._

* * *

**A/N**: I am nowhere near done with this story yet. Stay tuned!


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's note: **Angst abounds. Here's hoping it's not over the top.

As always—much love to all who take time to review. Let me know what you think!

**Chapter 11: **Grief

* * *

Jim's bloodshot eyes were suspiciously bright, and he stared hard at the thread pattern of McCoy's Starfleet-issue bed sheets.

He vaguely listened to the nuances of McCoy's drawl as the doctor informed Spock that the Thay'arians had used their powers to bring the structures of the colony down around them.

Nothing was left. They had all been killed in the process, along with a yet-undetermined number of Klingons.

"Reminds me of that old story of Sampson and how he brought the temple down on himself and all the Philistines," McCoy said, and Jim's mind was momentarily assaulted by images of Thay'arian rubble and blood and the screams of fleeing Klingons….

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a warm hand rest gingerly on his shoulder. He looked up in surprise into the darkened eyes of his First Officer.

"I grieve with thee, Captain," Spock murmured, removing his hand quickly.

'_Damn, was he that readable?'_

Jim opened his mouth to speak, but words wouldn't come at first. This compassionate behavior was beyond strange coming from the seemingly emotionless Vulcan.

It was too much.

"Um…thanks Spock. If you don't mind, I'm kinda tired actually…." His voice trailed off and he shot a desperate look at Bones.

The doctor nodded almost imperceptively. "Well Jim, I'll prepare you a sedative to help you sleep. Spock, I presume you've gotten all the information you need from the Captain?"

"Yes Doctor, I require no further information at this time. Captain, with your permission, I will return to my quarters and submit the necessary reports."

"Permission granted," Jim responded immediately, his eyes everywhere but on his First Officer.

Spock, sensing his presence to be distressing his Captain but not understanding why, exited the quarters swiftly, the edges of his mouth turned down in an uncharacteristic display of concern.

"You want to talk?" McCoy asked gruffly once the Vulcan had left. He watched Jim surreptitiously as he carefully measured and mixed the necessary ingredients for the hypo.

When he received no response, he sighed, staring at his friend's slumped form. Jim just shook his head, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

"Look, the last thing I want to do is offer you a damn cliché but talking helps, you know," McCoy offered lightly, knowing Jim was at the breaking point but not wanting to push him too hard.

Jim blinked, seeming to pull himself together a bit.

"It wasn't my father," he stated dully. "And yet at the same time it was."

"It's okay to feel confused," the doctor said gently.

"No, it's _not_ okay, damn it!" Jim shouted suddenly, pounding his fist down on the mattress.

McCoy noted the trembling in the younger man's limbs. _'Got to tread carefully here,'_ he thought.

Jim was his own worst enemy, and McCoy knew if he pushed too hard, one of two things would happen. Either Jim would fly into a rage and start breaking things, most likely damaging himself and probably McCoy as well, in the process; or he would bolt, and McCoy would find him later, drunk out of his mind, near catatonic, and most likely injured.

No, Jim was like a recalcitrant feline—he did things on his own terms or not at all.

"Why isn't it okay?" McCoy prodded, keeping his tone neutral.

"Because I _know_ who my father was!" Jim retorted loudly, bitterness and self-loathing evident in every word. "He died on the day I was born, and he can't ever come back! What the hell was I thinking? What kind of son actually mistakes a clone for his own father, huh? I mean…what the hell kind of son am I?"

He had both hands out in front of him, eyes wild with anguish and self-condemnation, and he was pleading for…something. For answers, for consolation, for closure—none of which McCoy thought he could offer his friend.

As Jim slumped back against the headboard in defeat, the words finally came to the doctor.

"I'll tell you," McCoy said firmly, setting down the hypo and looking Jim straight in the eye. "The kind of son who adores his father's memory _so much_ that he was willing to believe it when he met a living, breathing man who looked and behaved just like George Kirk."

Jim remained silent, his eyes distant and misty, so Bones continued. "What you thought and what you felt down on that planet was legitimate—perfectly understandable considering the circumstances. It was a shitty deal, but you handled it like a Starship Captain, and your father would be proud."

"No. I was weak. I was a fool," Jim muttered brokenly, looking away.

"Wrong. You were hurt and confused," the older man corrected, grasping the young Captain's chin to try and force him to look at him, "and there's a big difference. You were also manipulated, and that's not your fault."

Jim snorted. "That isn't any better—I'm supposed to be the Captain, for cripes sakes."

"You're not indestructible, Jim. Nor are you perfect. No one expects you to be."

"_I_ expect me to be."

"Well, and you're an idiot, so what's that tell you?" McCoy retorted, tapping the younger man on the cheek with the palm of his hand.

Jim snorted again, a small smile softening his rugged features.

As McCoy readied the hypo, Jim grew somber again.

"He died in my arms, Bones. And all those Thay'arians…they died too. I failed."

And that was the crux of it. McCoy just looked at him, trying to gauge a response.

The young Captain continued, his voice sounding rough and lost. "Probably my most important mission, Bones…and I failed them all."

The older man sighed, running a hand through his hair. What could he say?

"It was a no-win scenario, Jim."

Wrong thing to say. Jim whipped his head up, eyes set in an angry glare.

"You know how I feel about that," came the sharp reply.

"Hell, I know how you feel about that," McCoy shot back, voice rising in frustration. "The great James T. Kirk doesn't believe in no-win scenarios—I get it. But whatever you want to call it, missions fail. People die. You need to accept it and move on."

But Jim was shaking his head vehemently. He had broken that quickly, the tangled emotions consolidating into something ugly and unbound. His composure fractured, and he could no longer contain the fallout.

"My father's dead, Bones. God…my father died a second time and I couldn't save him."

And then he was curling into himself, rocking slightly back and forth, desperately trying to muffle the sounds of his raspy sobs.

McCoy sighed, deflated, before sinking down onto the bed next to his best friend. He allowed the paternal instincts he kept buried inside to surface, and gently pulled the younger man into his arms.

Absently he wondered how many times this job of theirs would require him to try and put the shattered pieces of his best friend's spirit back together. Then he told himself it didn't matter, because he would do it for the next thousand years just for Jim.

* * *

The soft rapping on the wall outside of his quarters roused Spock from a deep meditation. It took him a few moments to gather himself before he rose to open the doors.

He was intrigued, though not necessarily surprised, to see that his visitor was none other than the Captain.

It had been approximately 3.4 days since Spock had last seen the Captain outside of their interactions on the Bridge. The man had healed quickly—too quickly according to Dr. McCoy—and by now had resumed his normal duties.

The Thay'arian Massacre, as it was being referred to in the media, seemed to be an unfortunate step in the downward spiral toward war with the Klingon race, and the _Enterprise_ was heading to Starbase 6 to be briefed on new diplomatic strategies to keep the fragile peace.

Though Jim had not been reprimanded for his actions, (in fact he had been congratulated on surviving a difficult situation without provoking an intergalactic war), Spock could sense a dejection about the man which was deeply unsettling.

While he and Jim had certainly never seen eye to eye on almost anything, Spock nevertheless respected him. It was difficult to be able to perceive the man's internal struggles and yet not have the ability to aid in their resolution. Spock told himself it was not his place to question the emotional health of the Captain unless it was interfering with the function of the ship—yet he could not help but feel concerned. It was this difficulty and unsettledness that had necessitated Spock's meditation.

And now the source of his ruminations was standing outside of his door.

"Captain, may I assist you?" Spock asked.

"Um, no. I mean…yes. Uh…sorry."

Spock's eyebrow twitched. "May I inquire as to the source of your inability to form words?"

Jim exhaled, lips quirking up into a smile. "Spock, were you just making fun of me?"

"Negative Captain. Vulcans do not 'make fun'."

"Yeah, well you're only half-Vulcan. Uh…mind if I come in for a bit?" Jim asked, looking expectantly over Spock's shoulder.

"Of course not, Captain. Please make yourself comfortable."

"It's 'Jim', Spock," the Captain groaned. "'Jim' when we're off hours, remember?"

"Of course."

Jim strode in the room and then looked around hesitantly for a place to sit amongst the fastidiously clean quarters.

Spock, sensing the man's disconcertedness, motioned for him to sit on the small bell-shaped seat next to the wall, whereupon the Vulcan returned to his cross-legged perch on the floor.

Jim fidgeted in the awkwardness of the moment.

"So…you're probably wondering why I'm here."

"Indeed…though I assume you are not here to play chess, since it is neither the day of the week nor the hour of night at which you usually arrive at my quarters to play chess. Further, you usually insist on bringing your own chess set, which you obviously do not have on your person now. In addition, noting your increased respiration and heart rate, coupled with your nervous speech patterns and body language, I would surmise that you are here at great cost to your own personal comfort. Therefore, I calculate a 97.4 percent probability that this is not what you would call a 'social visit'."

Jim raised his eyebrows and blinked. "Uh…yeah. That's a pretty accurate estimation, actually."

Spock nodded, waiting patiently for the Captain's explanation.

Jim shifted uncomfortably in the chair, hunched forward, his elbows on his knees. His hands were rubbing together anxiously, and his blue eyes seemed to be boring holes through the floor.

"Spock…" he sighed. "Man, this is hard."

"Captain, I assure you that whatever it is you wish to say will remain confidential—"

"No, no, Spock. It's nothing like that. It's just…well I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

Spock's spine stiffened, and his eyes narrowed a bit in wary confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

Jim sighed. "Look, I didn't want to bring it up again, ever. But it needs to be said."

"Captain, I am afraid I am at a loss as to what you are referring."

"Your mother," Jim supplied hastily. "A-and what I said…on the bridge."

Spock's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Captain, that was…approximately 4 months ago."

"It needed to be said," Jim repeated, staring at the floor.

Silence permeated the room for a few minutes, then, "Captain—"

"Spock, when're you going to learn to call me 'Jim'?" Interrupted the human, and this time Spock saw his eyes—saw the strain, the heartache, the weariness; the soft smile that was only a shadow of the impish grin that normally graced the man's features.

"Jim, I believe on that day you were provoking me with probable cause. I was indeed compromised, and my reaction to your provocation was most shameful to my Vulcan heritage."

"That doesn't excuse what I did," Jim insisted.

"I believe what you are seeking is forgiveness. Yet from what I know of you as a human, and the circumstances under which you were operating on that day, there is nothing to forgive."

"I know it hurt, Spock," Jim said firmly, his blue eyes vibrant with intensity.

The Vulcan let out a puff of breath. "While for a time I may have harbored…irrational thoughts, I know now that it is not in your nature to speak to another with such cruelty."

Jim let out a self-deprecating snort. "You'd be surprised."

"You misunderstand. I mean you would never speak with such cruelty to another who had experienced a loss similar to your own," Spock clarified.

Jim paled considerably at the words of his First Officer.

"Damn," he said roughly, then, "Spock I am so sorry."

Spock closed his eyes briefly, stifling a bit of creeping aggravation. The man seemed intent on blaming himself. "Jim, your apology, while unnecessary, is accepted. You are forgiven, therefore you should stop torturing yourself over what is now the past."

"That's not it," Jim quietly replied. "See, I _didn't _understand. I didn't know at the time what it was like to have your mother…." He choked off, unable to continue.

Spock, suddenly understanding, blurted, "Jim, do not—" to no avail.

"My dad died when I was born. I didn't have to see it...watch him...at least the first time."

"Spock—how…how did you get through that? How did you not go crazy?" The young Captain's eyes were bright with unshed tears, and his voice was thick with grief.

Spock was momentarily taken aback. Here was James T. Kirk, one of the most emotive beings he'd ever encountered, and the man was looking to a Vulcan for emotional advice?

"Jim…it is most…illogical of you to ask me to assist you in this way," Spock stammered. "Perhaps Dr. McCoy—"

"He suggested I talk to you," Jim interrupted with a shake of his head.

Spock's eyebrows shot up again, and his mouth opened a bit in shock.

"Maybe Bones was wrong for once."

There was silence for a beat, then, "I should probably go, I'm sure you have things to do."

Spock almost let the younger man walk out—almost.

"Jim!"

The Captain turned, question in his eyes.

"I meditate," Spock said quickly.

"You meditate. What good does that do?" Jim asked as they walked back toward the middle of the room.

"For a human, I cannot say. However, Vulcans are able to find great peace in meditation. It is useful for mental and emotional healing."

"How?"

"It may not be successful in your case, Jim," Spock warned, trying to picture the bundle of energy that was James T. Kirk in a meditative state of calm.

"Can I try it?"

Try it they did, Spock giving te Captain a crash-course in meditative technique.

Two hours later, Spock came out of his meditation and looked over at where Jim had been sitting cross-legged on the floor nearby. The younger man had slumped sideways on the floor, soft snores coming from a slightly open and drooling mouth.

Spock cocked an eyebrow and fought to suppress a tiny grin. Somehow he had known Jim would not last too long in a meditative state.

Not wishing to wake the Captain until it was necessary, he covered the human with a blanket, and gently eased a pillow under his head.

* * *

**A/N**: Reviews make writing easier and more fun. 'Nuff said.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's note**: It's been awhile, hasn't it? Here's hoping you all haven't left me hanging high and dry.

A mild warning for mild language.

**Disclaimer**: Still don't own a thing.

**Chapter 12**: After Everything

* * *

_I've been worried about you; maybe I hide it all too well, _

_You are somewhere else... _

_Something's troubling you; it's not difficult to see, _

_You were someone else... _

_You were strong a while; you learned to fake a smile, _

_You run somewhere else…_

_I've been learning about you; I've been figuring you out, _

_You are someone else... _

- Lost Ocean, 'You Are'

* * *

It was late in the evening, and Jim was resting in his quarters. He had long ago abandoned the book he'd been reading; a loan from Scotty chronicling the history of starship engineering.

It was far from a dry read – Jim enjoyed the intellectual and historical depth of the book – he just couldn't seem to concentrate.

Lately he'd been having trouble falling asleep. McCoy warned him about it, among other things. It seemed Jim had increasingly been using the doctor as a therapist of sorts.

In fact, Jim had been insistent.

* * *

"_Jim, you should really see counselor about this stuff—"_

"_No."_

"_Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor not a shrink!"_

"_Look, I don't need a shrink," Jim had responded angrily. "I need my best friend, who _happens_ to be a doctor, to answer my questions without acting like I need carted off to the loony bin!"_

_McCoy had relented of course, knowing that Jim would never trust a psychologist enough to be comfortably transparent; besides, pushing was only resulting in alienating his friend, who really just needed support right now. _

_So he was holding 'sessions with Jim', as he referred to them in the privacy of his thoughts. In reality, for the past week Jim had been coming over every night to nurse a beer and just talk. Talk about the ship, talk about his past, talk about everything and anything, including his confusion over what happened on Thay'are. And McCoy would listen, interject his witticisms, and at the end of the evening they'd share a laugh and call it a night. _

_McCoy knew that, for whatever reason, his resilient friend was having trouble healing from this latest trauma. He, as well as the rest of the bridge crew, had begun noticing Jim's haggard appearance and despondent spirit over the past week, and they were all concerned. _

_Spock had come to him once a couple days ago, asking if Jim was fit for command. McCoy had hesitated. Spock looked surprised. "He is compromised?" _

"_Yes, he's compromised, but he's not unfit. Damn it, Spock, if I declare him unfit it'll just make it worse for him. He needs the routine. It keeps his mind off it."_

_This, Spock understood, especially after recalling his own reaction in the turbo lift after his mother's death. _

_"What do you need?" Nyota had asked; and Spock, barely in control of his emotions, had replied, "I need everyone to continue performing admirably." _

_It was the only way he kept it together. _

_Yet he of all people knew that there was a downside to such a practice. "Doctor, by allowing the Captain to perform his duties while emotionally compromised, will he not suppress his grief in an unhealthy manner? Surely this is not wise."_

"_I thought of that. And don't worry—he's not suppressing anything. In fact, he's been about as a transparent as I've ever seen him, with me anyway. He's hurting, but he's reaching out."_

_Spock paused, contemplating. "Currently the Captain is only functioning at about 52 percent of his normal capacity."_

"_If he gets any worse I'll let you know and we'll declare him unfit, but not 'til then," McCoy reluctantly promised. _

_Luckily, it hadn't come to that...yet. In the meantime Jim came to him frequently with questions like, "I can't sleep Bones—is that normal?" Whereupon McCoy would reply with, "Jim with you, nothing is normal," before informing him that yes, it was common to experience sleep disruptions while grieving. _

_It was like the kid had never experienced grief before…and in fact, McCoy had a theory about it. _

_One would think that Jim grew up grieving. But you can't grieve somebody you never really knew. _

_McCoy knew for a fact that there were only two other significant events in Jim's life where he lost people. One was Tarsus IV; the other was the Narada incident. McCoy doubted Jim had properly grieved either event. _

_No…the pain had been tucked away inside, locked down and ignored for far too long. _

_The Thay'arian massacre had, for whatever reason, unlocked that pain—and Jim didn't know what to do with it. He was like a child exploring a new area of life; grief was foreign to him, something confusing and even a little frightening. _

_Hence the statements like, "I just feel so damn drained, Bones, and I don't know why."_

_To which McCoy would reply, "Well idiot, you're _grieving_, what do you expect to feel?"_

_All he could do was be there. That's all any of them could do. _

_Grief doesn't operate on a set time schedule; rather, it ebbs and flows. _

_It passes as the seasons do, and sometimes it sneaks up on you, like the subtle yet sudden change from summer to fall. _

_

* * *

_Suddenly the door chimed, and Jim decided to get up and open it manually, just for the hell of it.

He was mildly surprised to see Uhura standing there, a bowl of steaming liquid in her hands.

"Captain, I brought you some Andorian stew."

"Oh-uh, thanks Uhura…you want to come in?"

Under normal circumstances, she would have rolled her eyes and made a jab about his egotistical womanizing habits, and the bane of men in general. This wasn't the time or the place.

She walked in his quarters and set the bowl down on a coffee table. "It's filling, and it also has an herb in it that will help you sleep."

He squinted at that. "Has Bones been talking to you?"

She smiled gently. "Nope. I came all on my own."

He made a scoffing noise. "You must think I'm pretty bad off then."

"I just thought you might be hungry," she insisted, her voice sincere; and he decided to take it for what it was—a gesture of friendship and compassion.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," he said, unable to remember the last time he ate.

"Captain, I also wished to inform you of something," she began abruptly, and Jim's face fell.

"What?"

"Well, I did some investigating and made some arrangements…I was able to recover the remains...if…if you want to have a service."

Jim blinked a few times, then nodded, understanding. "He saved my life. He should have a proper burial."

"I thought you might see it that way, Captain."

"Thanks, Uhura. You didn't have to do that."

"Jim…." She began, but stopped.

Walking over, she reached both hands up to lightly grasp his face, pulling him gently down. Then ever so tenderly, she placed a kiss on his brow, bending to allow their foreheads to touch.

"Know that we care for you. We're here for you."

He said nothing, but they were standing close enough that she could feel him shiver. They stayed like that for a few moments, eyes closed, before she released him.

"Sleep well, Captain."

* * *

**A/N**: I always felt moved by Uhura's compassion toward Spock in the movie - and I always thought it went way beyond a love interest. I think she would have tried to comfort anyone in that position.

I think that, despite her ambition and stubborn streak, she was always meant to be portrayed as a caring, empathetic person - and how fitting, considering her role as Chief Communications Officer.

Reviews feed the muse!


	13. Chapter 13

**[Longer than usual] Author's Note**: I've about sucked everything I can out of this plot, I know. I just love writing angst. There is so much you can do with it as a genre; personally I try to use it to create glimpses into the human psyche. But bottom line, it just makes for a great story. At the end of the day, I just want to write a good story.

When I first got the idea for this fic, I dismissed it as being too far-fetched. I mean, Jim's father showing up as a clone? Come on. But watching the old TOS episodes, I noticed crazy stuff happened all the time, so I convinced myself that the idea wasn't too unrealistic in the universe of Trek. I think that's why we all love it so much – the possibilities are endless.

But enough about me: I want to thank everyone for reviewing this story. It means the world to me. I try to respond to every review, and sometimes get so excited that I end up writing a paragraph's worth back, lol. I doubt I'd be doing this if it weren't for those readers who take time to comment on my work.

I sincerely thank you all, and hope you have enjoyed the ride as much as I have.

Without further ado….

**Chapter 13**: A Mother's Touch

* * *

_Grief doesn't operate on a set time schedule; rather, it ebbs and flows. _

_It passes as the seasons do, and sometimes it sneaks up on you, like the subtle yet sudden change from summer to fall. _

_

* * *

_Jim had taken it surprisingly well.

It had been his choice to hold the service for George at the same time as the service for ensigns Vovitchey and Bowers.

_The casket holding George's remains had sat apart. Unlike the ensigns', it was not draped with the Federation flag. A long line of crewmen gathered to pay their respects. _

_Jim, McCoy, Spock, and Uhura were the only ones to stop by George's casket as well. _

_The three bridge crewmembers waited, watching their Captain and friend as he made his way to the third casket. He was not standing solitary for long – within moments the three were flanked next to him in a show of support that nearly brought the younger man to tears. Not a word was spoken. Not a word _needed_ to be spoken. _

_For the rest of the service McCoy tried to stay within his friend's shadow, silently worrying; trying to offer comfort just with his presence. The chaplain spoke for a good twenty minutes, and then it was Jim's turn. _

_The kid hadn't shed a tear, standing ramrod straight as he gave a eulogy for the three men. His speech was short and sincere. He mentioned nothing about George being a clone, or his resemblance to Jim's father, or his own personal pain. He couldn't. _

_Instead, he spoke of duty, honor, and sacrifice. It was a typical speech from the young captain who'd been through an atypical kind of hell. _

_He was being strong for his crew._

_Even so, those closest to him noticed the strain. _

_At one point, McCoy turned around in his seat to glare at Chekov, who had been whispering to Sulu – "Is ze captain alright? He seems so…sad."_

_Later, after the ceremony had ended and all the crewmembers had left; Jim pulled a chair in front of George's closed casket and sat silently, lost in thought. _

_This pain…this deep ache…it was unnatural for him. _

_Anger – _that_ he could deal with. _

_Anger was a comfortable emotion – one which Jim knew how to navigate well. _

_But he had no energy for anger. All that was left was a strange, hollow feeling; a tightness in his chest; a stone in his gut. _

_He didn't look up when he felt the doctor's hand on his shoulder, nor did he object when the man pulled up his own chair to sit down next to him. _

_They sat in silence for awhile, Jim rubbing at a callous on his palm. _

"_You don't have to stick around, you know."_

"_I know," McCoy replied. _

"_So what are you doing?"_

"_You want me to go?"_

_Jim shrugged. "It's up to you."_

"_Then I'll stay."_

_More silence._

"_Did you get a chance to pay your respects?" McCoy asked._

_Jim shrugged again. "Guess so."_

"_Did you talk to him?"_

"_What?" Jim's head whipped up, a confused expression on his face._

"_Did you talk to him? You know, to say goodbye."_

"_Bones, you want me to talk to a dead guy in a casket?" Jim hissed, incredulous._

_McCoy rolled his eyes. "Not actually talk to him, idiot – I just thought it might help."_

"_Help _how_?" _

"_I don't know, to say whatever needs to be said. A lot of people do it."_

"_What's the point if they can't hear you?" Jim muttered darkly. _

"_Some believe they _can_ hear. Either way, it's a good way to get stuff off your chest."_

"_Well, I don't have anything to get off my chest," Jim said, recognizing the hardness in his voice. _

_Ah yes…callous indifference: just as good as anger, and much more preferable than sadness._

_McCoy just stared at him with an unreadable expression. _

_When he spoke again his voice was quiet but firm. "You know where to find me if you need me," he said, patting Jim on the shoulder as he got up to leave. _

_Jim sat alone for a long time after that. He did not speak. _

_He had nothing to say to a dead man. _

_

* * *

_They'd all hoped that the Captain would get better after the memorial service.

They were wrong.

A week after the service, Chekov called an informal meeting. The rest of the bridge crew attended, including Mr. Scott, more out of curiosity than anything. By that time they'd all heard of what happened to the Captain, and they were all concerned.

Once they were all seated in the conference room, the young navigator fixed the doctor with a pointed stare. "Dr. McCoy…what is wrong with ze Captain?"

McCoy was irritated. "He's _grieving_ Chekov…you mean to tell me that you scheduled this meeting to ask me _that_?"

"No, zhat is not it. I am just…worried. I want to help him but…I do not know what to do."

"None of us do, Chekov," Uhura replied quietly.

"Doctor McCoy, when we last spoke we agreed to declare the Captain unfit for duty if his functioning level fell any lower. I would have to say that this meeting confirms that such an event has indeed occurred."

"Damn it, Spock! Damn all of you! What would you have me do? If I could pull him out of this, I would – hell, I've tried! He's on a downward spiral and I'm just as confused about it as you are!"

"He's not going crazy or anything, is he?" Uhura asked, worriedly.

McCoy sighed. "No, nothing like that. He's just…the only way I can explain it is that he's heartsick. What happened on that planet…it brought up a lot of bad memories for him, and he just seems lost right now."

"What do you recommend for his healing?" Spock asked.

"What he needs is time off. Time to rest…time to get his head together. But with the Federation on the brink of war with the Klingons, I don't see that happening anytime soon."

"Well, we need to do something, if you ask me," Sulu chimed in. "He looks ill."

"Yes, and he newer talks on ze bridge anymore – he just sits there. It is weird," Chekov added.

McCoy ran a hand through his hair. "What do you want me to do?"

The room fell silent.

Then, "I think I might 'ave an idea," Scotty chirped. "Maybe what the Cap'n needs is to be reminded he's got a family."

McCoy groaned. "No."

"Why not?"

"Because, Scotty. We're the only family he has."

"But, what about his mother?" Uhura asked.

McCoy shook his head. "He hasn't spoken to her since after the Narada incident."

"They haven't spoken in _two years_?" She exclaimed, surprised.

"Look, Jim didn't have the greatest childhood. I don't think his mom has always been there for him, either. And I sure as hell know that if Jim knew about this little confab, he wouldn't be happy."

"I fail to see why Mr. Scott's suggestion should not be considered," said Spock. "The Captain is grieving the loss of his father. It is logical that he would desire the comfort of the only parent he has left."

"Not all humans make loving parents, Spock," McCoy retorted.

"A logical statement, doctor, however irrelevant. All parents at some point fail their children, and many parents fail their children often. But most of them mean well. Whatever wrongs Mrs. Kirk committed against her son in the past, the statistical likelihood that she does not care for him is slim."

"And what if _he_ doesn't want to see _her_? Can your computer brain calculate that?" McCoy seethed.

"On the contrary, I believe Jim actually misses her."

"What makes you say that, Spock?" Uhura prompted.

"Something he told me once, during a game of chess. The Captain was fatigued, and most of the game was played in silence. However, at one point he made an unusual query."

"Which was?" McCoy demanded.

"He asked if my mother had loved me. I sensed at once that his question was not vindictive or mocking – he seemed rather genuine. After I answered the query, I wondered at the source. I proceeded to ask him if his mother cared for him."

"What did he say?" Chekov interrupted.

"I believe the Captain's exact words were, 'I think she loves me. I just wish she'd stick around long enough to show it.'"

"That's my _point_, Spock. She hasn't been around," McCoy insisted.

"No – I understand what Spock's saying," Uhura piped in. "Sure, she may not have been the best mother. But Jim obviously cares for her. And unless you honestly believe that she's a bad person, then I think Scotty's idea is solid."

"She's not a bad person. She's just been through a lot. Like Jim," McCoy admitted quietly. "But that doesn't change the fact that they haven't spoken in _two years_."

Uhura sighed.

"Sometimes communication breaks down, not because family members don't care for each other, but because they get into ruts. They get so used to ignoring the elephant in the room, sweeping problems under the rug, that they don't realize until years later that they've become strangers."

She paused. "Maybe it's time for Mrs. Kirk to get reintroduced to her son."

McCoy's shoulders slumped. "Well, it's not like anybody's thought of a better idea," he admitted. He sighed. Honestly, he just didn't want to see his friend hurt anymore.

"Alright, you've got me warmed up to the idea. But how is it going to work?"

"Do you know how to contact her?" She replied.

"Yes."

"Well, now we just need to figure out how to get her here."

"We could pay for a shuttle," suggested Sulu.

"What are we livin' in the twenty-first century, man? Why pay for a shuttle when we can beam 'er right 'ere?" Scotty exclaimed incredulously.

"Oh. Right," Sulu replied, his face hot with embarrassment.

It was settled. McCoy would contact Mrs. Kirk, and then they would beam her aboard the _Enterprise_ to surprise Jim.

A simple enough plan, but McCoy was nervous as hell when he commed. her the next day.

"_Hello?" _

"Mrs. Kirk? This is Dr. McCoy – do you remember me?"

"_Who?"_

"Dr. McCoy…your son and I were roommates at the academy."

"_You're one of Jim's friends? The one he calls 'Bones'?"_

"Yes ma'am, that's me."

"_Well, it's been such a long time! This is quite a surprise…Jim's alright, isn't he?"_

"Well, for the most part, yes," McCoy responded uncomfortably.

There was a pause before Mrs. Kirk spoke again.

"_Listen doctor, I've been working in the black for a long time. I can handle whatever you're about to tell me. You don't need to sugarcoat it. Now what's happened to my son?"_

"He's just going through a rough time right now, Mrs. Kirk. I just…I was wondering if you wanted to come onboard the _Enterprise_. Maybe spend some time with Jim."

Another long pause. McCoy was beginning to think this had been a bad idea after all.

"_What do you mean he's had a rough time?"_ She asked quietly.

McCoy sighed. "Without getting into the details, he had a bad experience on the last away mission. And we don't know what to do for him."

"_Does he know you're calling me?"_

"No ma'am. He doesn't."

"_What's your first name?"_

"Leonard."

"_Len…if you know anything about my son, you know that he probably doesn't want to see me."_

"Mrs. Kirk…."

"_It's Winona."_

"Winona. I don't think that's true. I think…I think he needs you of all people right now."

Silence again.

Then, _"You're on the _Enterprise_?"_

"Yes, and if you just give me your coordinates, we can beam you aboard whenever you're ready."

"_I can be ready by tomorrow afternoon,"_ she said, surprising McCoy.

And that was that.

* * *

Jim was pissed.

McCoy had taken him off duty.

"_I'm CMO, Jim. I have to do what's good for this crew, and unless you get some serious rest you're a danger to everyone onboard."_

Jim begrudgingly retired to his quarters. If he was honest with himself, he was exhausted.

He didn't know what to think anymore. He felt like a hollow shell, just going through the motions. All he wanted to do was sleep.

He went straight to his bed and fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

* * *

"You really think he'll want to see me?" Winona asked again in the turbolift.

"I hope so," McCoy replied honestly.

"Where are we going?"

"O deck. It's nice and quiet there, more private."

"Len…what's wrong with my son? Why did you call me?" Her voice quavered with trepidation.

McCoy chose his words carefully. "He's worn out and hurting inside, Winona. That's all I can say. If he wants to, maybe he'll tell you the rest."

"You want me to love on him for a bit," Winona replied with a small smile.

"They call it a mother's touch," said McCoy as the turbolift doors opened.

"You know I haven't always been there for him," she said softly.

McCoy's answer was simple. "Be there for him now."

* * *

Jim was awakened by his door chime.

He groaned loudly. "Okay, I'm coming."

He stumbled over to the door, surprised upon its opening to see Spock standing in the hallway with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Spock?"

"Captain, did I interrupt your rest?"

"No, s'okay…what's going on?"

"Dr. McCoy requested you meet him on the observation deck."

"What? Why?" Jim asked, scrunching his face up in confusion.

"He said it was urgent," was Spock's evasive reply.

Jim sighed dramatically, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

"Alright. Thanks for letting me know."

"Should I inform him that you are on your way?"

"Yeah, sure," Jim said, looking at Spock strangely.

"Is there a problem, Captain?"

"No, no…just…if he wanted me to meet him, why didn't he comm. me?"

Spock remained impassive. "I cannot answer that, Captain."

Jim blinked. "Alright. Whatever. Tell him I'll meet him in five minutes."

"Yes, Captain."

* * *

"Spock says he's on his way," McCoy announced, snapping his communicator closed.

"Oh, I'm so nervous…it's been so long…." Winona mused.

"Bones?" They heard the unmistakable boom of Jim's voice echo off of the walls.

* * *

Jim stopped, frozen, when he saw her standing in the middle of the room. His mouth dropped open, heart pounding loudly in his ears. It _couldn't_ be.

Winona turned, made eye contact, and watched her son's expression change from shock to confusion to utter disbelief in seconds.

"Jim?"

She noted his paleness, the dark grooves under his eyes, the slump of his shoulders, and that he was way too thin for her liking. She shot a suspicious glance at the doctor before stepping closer to her son.

"Hi, Jimmy? Is this okay?"

She was asking permission to be here, Jim realized, and that shocked him even more.

"Mom…w-what…?"

"I've missed you," she said hesitantly, her eyes round and sad.

"Mom…I don't understand…did something happen? Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay, sweetie," she replied, confused by his reaction.

"But what are you doing here?"

"Well…I wanted to see you. It's been so long. Too long."

"Yeah, it's been two years," Jim replied with a huff.

They stared at each other uncertainly for a moment, before she finally stepped forward and pulled him into a tight embrace. Gradually, he relaxed in her arms, and returned the hug.

"God, mom," he muttered, voice cracking. "Why didn't you call?"

She didn't know if he was referring to not calling before the visit, or not calling for the past two years. She chose not to answer either.

He broke away first, staring at her. She'd grown older in the past two years, which was to be expected. Her blonde hair was streaked with white, and there were more lines in her face. But her eyes were the same pale blue –a mirror to her soul, like always.

Those eyes were smiling.

McCoy suddenly cleared his throat, and Jim glanced over at him with a bewildered expression on his face. "Bones? This is my mom."

The doctor chuckled. "I know, kid. I met her once before, remember? Why don't you give her a tour of the _Enterprise_. I think she'd like that."

"I _would _like that," replied Winona, wrapping an arm around her son's waist.

"Well, alright then," Jim said, leading her away.

McCoy stood rooted in place. "I'll be damned," he muttered to himself.

For that was the first time in weeks he'd seen his best friend smile.

* * *

Winona stayed for a week. In that time, the crew saw a change come over their formerly-despondent Captain.

McCoy noticed he was eating more. (Of course, his mother was cooking for him.)

Chekov was happy to find that Jim was back to cracking jokes on the bridge.

Uhura was pleased that the haunted look in the Captain's eyes had somewhat receded. She also struck up a friendship with Winona, to Jim's horror. They often traded knowing looks behind his back.

Sulu noted that Jim was looking less haggard, and Scotty was quite insufferable after hearing that his plan had worked. He'd never let any of them hear the end of it.

By the end of the week, Spock reported that the Captain was functioning at 78% capacity and improving.

They all had to agree it was Winona who'd finally managed to pull Jim out of his grief, and they marveled at how the relationship between mother and son could be rekindled after so much time and hurt.

None of them knew if Jim ever shared with Winona the horrible experience he'd had on Thay'are - McCoy doubted he ever would. But her presence, her concern, seemed to engage Jim at a point beyond his pain.

Maybe it was the timing. Maybe it was the distraction. Maybe it was Jim's voluntary choice.

Anyway you looked at it, Jim's mother had done more to help him heal just with her presence than any of them could have expected.

Between mother and son, it had made up for a multitude of sins.

* * *

Jim himself was the last to notice the change. One night McCoy was doing paperwork in his office in sickbay, when he was startled by Jim's presence at the door.

"Geez – you scared the shit out of me. Ever hear of knocking?"

Jim smiled ruefully. "Just keeping you on your toes."

He walked in and sat down in one of the doctor's plush office chairs.

"You called her, didn't you?" He stated quietly.

McCoy sighed. "Yeah. I did."

"How did you know?"

"Know what?" McCoy looked at him in confusion.

"How did you know what I needed, when I didn't know, myself?"

McCoy grunted. "I _didn't_ know. It was Scotty's idea, actually."

"Scotty?"

"Mm-Hm. And Spock thought it was quite logical, too."

"What?" Jim was flabbergasted. "Wait…just how many people were in on this?"

"Well, Chekov was worried about you, so he got everybody together…."

"Wait…Chekov didn't even know what happened!"

"He didn't need to, Jim. We all noticed you were hurting."

"All…?"

"Spock, Scotty, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov, and I."

"You guys all got together like that…for me?"

"You didn't think you had friends on this ship, Jim?" McCoy replied, amused.

"No, it's not that…just…wow." Jim ran a hand over his face, and McCoy decided to change the subject.

"Did you have a good time with your mom?"

"Yeah, we…yeah. I can't believe she actually came. You probably had to tell her I was dying or something, didn't you?"

McCoy sighed. "Jim, I couldn't ever say this before with certainty, but I can say it now: your mother loves you."

Jim was quiet for a long moment.

Then he said in a soft, awed voice, "Yeah. I guess a lot of people do."

McCoy wasn't sure, but he could have sworn he noticed something glittering in the younger man's eyes. It floored him to realize that what Jim just said was a revelation for him – something he'd not fully believed up until now.

"Bones…thank you," Jim said finally, then stood.

A real smile graced his lips, and he slapped the doctor in the arm before turning to leave. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

"_Eventually you will come to understand that love heals everything, and love is all there is." - Gary Zukav_

El Fin.

* * *

**A/N**: Hm. I hope it didn't end too abruptly. Please review and tell me what you thought.

Also, if you get a chance to read my work-in-progress _Lessons in Grace_, my next chapter for that saga is to be focused on Spock, and I am looking for ideas. Feel free to shoot some my way. :)


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